“So you’re suggesting we take the train up to York, meet a ninety-year-old man, leap on him, and yank out his hair? I’m sure the Clave will beecstatic.”“They’ll just say you’re mad,” said Jessamine. “They already think it, so what’s the difference, really?”

“Jesus Christ knew he was God. So wake up and find out eventually who you really are. In our culture, of course, they’ll say you’re crazy and you’re blasphemous, and they’ll either put you in jail or in a nut house (which is pretty much the same thing). However if you wake up in India and tell your friends and relations, ‘My goodness, I’ve just discovered that I’m God,’ they’ll laugh and say, ‘Oh, congratulations, at last you found out.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to take a leap of faith,” he said.“I think I can do that,” she said. “If you’re there to catch me.”“I’m here,” he said. “I haven’t let you down yet, have I?”She put her hand against his face. “No, Jack. You sure haven’t.”

“What’s with her?” says the painter. “She’s mad because she’s a woman,” Jon says. This is something I haven’t heard for years, not since high school. Once it was a shaming thing to say, and crushing to have it said about you, by a man. It implied oddness, deformity, sexual malfunction. I go to the living room doorway. “I’m not mad because I’m a woman,” I say. “I’m mad because you’re an asshole.”

“So what’s your favorite Synism? (Kiara)Duwad. (Nykyrian)Which means? (Kiara)You’re not old enough for me to answer that. Hell, I’m not even old enough to say it. (Nykyrian)”

“What makes you think you’re so special? Just because you’re a teacher? What he was really saying was: You are so special. You are my teacher. Then teach me, help me, Hey, Teach, I’m lost—which way do I go? I’m tired of going up the down staircase.”