“Before, if I thought Christmas, I would have remembered my past on Earth and would have succumbed to the aching sadness for a life I can never have again.Now, I can think the word and not feel anything but a dull ache, a phantom pain for a part of my life that’s been amputated. [p.244]”

“I feel that it is possible that I might never have existed, for my self consists in thought; therefore I who think would never have been if my mother had been killed before I had come to life; therefore I am not a necessary being. I am not eternal or infinite either…”

“I convince myself that I am having fun playing big lawyer in the big city-working all hours, surrounded by a ringing phone and day-old pizza crust. That I am reveling in this life of a caricature. But that would be a lie, because the truth is that I don't really feel much of anything at all. Just a dull ache around my edges.”

“My chest aches, but not with fear or sadness. With hope. With love. I love her. I love her, and it is better than anything else I can remember. "You found me.”

“But I think she would have been happy with Fabrice,' I said. 'He was the great love of her life, you know.'Oh, dulling,' said my mother, sadly. 'One always thinks that. Every, every time.”

“That night, having wriggled down into my futon all alone, I found myself in the grips of a wrenching sadness. I was only a child, but I knew the feeling that came when you parted with something, and I felt that pain. I lay gazing up at the ceiling , feeling the sleek stiffness of the well-starched sheets against my skin. My distress was a seed that would grow into an understanding of what it meant to say goodbye. In contrast to the heavy ache I would come to know later on in life, this was tiny and fresh – a green bud of pain with a bright halo of light rimming its edges.”