“My looks by then had in any case declined to the point where only women would go to bed with me.”

“Why would I go look at other women when the most beautiful woman in the world shares my bed every night?” he protested, kissing her lightly. - Gabriel Emerson”

“Hey.” He watched me back away as if he was dangerous. He looked entirely too pleased with himself. “Where are you going?”“To bed.” Double crap. What if he thought that was an invitation? Was it an invitation? And when, exactly, had I lost my mind? “Uh, I meant to my room. Where my bed is. And—shit.” I forced myself to stop babbling.”

“Young, middle-aged, elderly, old, dead: this was how life conjugated. (No, life was a noun, so this is how life declined. Yes, that was better in any case, life declined.”

“At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity, Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.”

“Thank goodness women aren’t as superficial as men. Where would a guy like me be if all women cared about were looks? The plastic surgeon’s office, that’s where.”