“Everything new and beautiful seems to arrive already haunted by its own demise.”

“If it moves, starch it. If it doesn't move, starch it. If it seems it has enough starch already, it hasn't, so starch it again.”

“I stay in that state of mind for the next couple of days, in the places that only exist in the past. The things you can’t undo get lodged in the darkest corners of your mind, where nothing ever seems to get solved, just recycled into new anxiety.”

“He was beautiful, like looking at a favorite piece of artwork. Not something one can own, but something in a faraway museum, where she would have to go halfway around the world, push through crowds on people, just to catch a glimpse of his unreal splendor.”

“Being ready is everything.”

“He was already fading. I knew that it wouldn't be long until he was just a vague image, however much I tried to cling onto his memory.”

“For home had a way of shifting, of changing shape and temperature. Home was homeless. It could exist anywhere, because its only substance was familiarity. If it was broken by long journeys or tornadoes it emerged again, reinvented itself with new decor, new idiosyncrasies of morning, noon and dusk, and old routines.”