“That night on the Swan we'd promised each other that we'd have some sort of romance. Something unprecedented. "We don't have to be like other people," she'd said, and I'd believed her.”

“But we'd had only so many nights together, and the notebook had only so many pages, and that world was never going to get any bigger. The truth was that I couldn't have kept her even if she'd lived. At the end, we'd both been pushing at the walls of our secret world, pushing at each other. We'd given each other everything we could. It wasn't enough for either of us anymore.”

“We'd both been pushing at the walls of our secret world, pushing at each other. We'd give each other everything we could.”

“The world was in terrible shape, and I'm glad we stood up and said what we believed; but a lot of the time we'd say these beautiful things about justice and fairness and equality, but we weren't so nice to each other. We'd be jealous and we'd gossip, and we'd be moody and difficult and rude and inconsiderate. Why do I say 'we'? I mean I would be all that-- and if at the time I ever came near to knowing what I'd become, I'd dodge, I'd duck, I'd go on the offensive: the terrible Wall Street bankers. Lots of them were terrible-- and so were lots of us.”

“Bye-bye, I thought, almost sure that I'd never see her again. But if I did - if we ran into each other someday - I knew we would smile and say polite things like How are you? and Give my regards to your parents, and we would secretly remember that we used to mean something to each other. And even if that never happened, if we never spoke again, I was grateful we'd have tonight.”

“If I had my way we'd sleep every night all wrapped around each other like hibernating rattlesnakes.”