“you’ll always come out all right – no matter what. You’re like me that way.’ And that’s where the whole trouble is,” thought Francie. “We’re too much alike to understand each other because we don’t even understand our own selves. . .”

“And that's where the whole trouble is. We're too much alike to understand each other because we don't even understand our own selves.”

“Extinction, that’s where it’s going, that’s where we’re headed. And we’re going that way because we’re all so fucking afraid of it. We’re so afraid of dying off that we’re setting ourselves up for exactly that. Keeping away from each other, rarely making eye contact with those we don’t already know. Not helping when folks need help. Avoiding confrontation and staying away when we see anything which might instill fear. Doing our best to stay out of trouble, while in effect creating more trouble.”

“We were both music-obsessed, each in our own way. If we didn't entirely understand the other person's obsession, it didn't matter, because we understood our own.”

“Nothing’s changed. You’ll go home. You’ll be bored. You’ll be ignored. No one will listen to you, really listen to you. You’re too clever and too quiet for them to understand. They don’t even get your name right.”

“Why does that obstinate little voice in our heads torment us so? Could it be because it reminds us that we are alive, of our mortality, of our individual souls – which, after all, we are too afraid to surrender but yet make us feel more miserable than any other thing? It is a terrible thing to learn as a child that one is a being separate from the world, that no one and no thing hurts along with one’s burned tongues and skinned knees, that one’s aches and pains are all one’s own. Even more terrible, as we grow older, to learn that no person, no matter how beloved, can ever truly understand us. Our own selves make us most unhappy, and that’s why we’re so anxious to lose them, don’t you think?”