“The little girl skipped by under the wrinkled oak leaves and held fast to a replica of herself.”

“We all forget to sleep and crash at someone's feet. Everybody skips a beat. We let the chances pass, the few we held so fast, everybody breaks a glass.”

“Connie went for walks in the park, and in the woods that joined the park, and enjoyed the solitude and the mystery, kicked the brown leaves of autumn, and picked the primroses of spring. But it was all a dream; or rather it was like the simulacrum of reality. The oak leaves were to her like oak-leaves seen ruffling in a mirror, she herself was a figure somebody had read about, picking primroses that were only shadows or memories, or words. No substance to her or anything...no touch, no contact!”

“Today's mighty oak is just yesterday's nut that held its ground. ”

“Isabel turns down Oak toward the little vintage shop at Fourth Avenue, thinking of lunch—the Chinese place in Old Town, casting around inside herself for hunger, imagining the tastes of things.”

“Used a replica gun to steal a replica sportscar and experienced a replica of remorse”