“Her violence frightened me. She always claimed that I was the jealous one, and I was often jealous, but when I saw things working against me I simply became disgusted and withdrew. Lydia was different. She reacted. She was the Head Cheerleader at the Game of Violence.”

“Am I jealous? he thought, astonished. Jealous of the chance object to which she has attached herself? Jealous of something that does not concern me? One can be jealous of a love that has turned away, but not of that to which it has turned.”

“I wasn’t sure what expression I was expecting her to wear when she saw that it was me. I’d braced myself for disgust or anger. But she justlooked at me like I was — nothing. An annoyance, maybe.”

“She jerked her hand back and shot me what could only be described as a 'bitch' look. Frankly, it was a fucking work of art and I was sort of jealous of that level of mastery.”

“Too often I am jealous and my jealousy leads me to say things-things-that I regret.”

“I often think about her. One thing she said stayed with me, a dagger in my heart: "You know for me the most horrible thing of all is knowing that he will forget me."I lacked the presence of mind to tell her that it was impossible; she was simply unforgettable.”