“People like Eunice just never had quite figured out how to get along in the world. They might be perfectly intelligent, but they were subject to speckles and flushes; their purses resembled wastepaper baskets; they stepped on their own skirts. ”

“The wastepaper basket is the writer’s best friend. ”

“What people had shed and left--a pair of shoes, a shooting cap, some faded skirts and coats in wardrobes--those alone kept the human shape and in the emptiness indicated how once they were filled and animated; how once hands were busy with hooks and buttons; how once the looking-glass had held a face; had held a world hollowed out in which a figure turned, a hand flashed, the door opened, in came children rushing and tumbling; and went out again.”

“We never did figure out why that overnight spike had occurred; perhaps it was a reminder that sometimes, diabetes management is an ongoing experiment. No matter how perfect the system, how good the technology, your disease can sometimes take an unpredictable turn. The way to handle it? Don't panic. If you can't figure out a reason, don't worry, just figure out a solution.”

“In the first few pages, Kundera discusses several abstract historical figures: Robespierre, Nietzsche, Hitler. For Eunice's sake, I wanted him to get to the plot, to introduce actual "living" characters - I recalled this was a love story - and to leave the world of ideas behind. Here we were, two people lying in bed, Eunice's worried head propped on my collarbone, and I wanted us to feel something in common. I wanted this complex language, this surge of intellect, to be processed into love. Isn't that how they used to do it a century ago, people reading poetry to one another?”

“I like undressing women with my eyes, but I just can’t quite figure out how to unstrap their bras with my eyelids.”