“The person we know at first, she thinks, is not the one we know at last.”

“We talk of strong personalities, and they are strong, until the not-every-day when we see them as we might see one woman alone in a desert, and know that all the strength we thought we knew was only courage, only her lone song echoing among the stones; and then at last when we have understood this and made up our minds to hear the song and admire its courage and its sweetness, we wait for the next note and it does not come. The last word, with its pure tone, echoes and fades and is gone, and we realize—only then—that we do not know what it was, that we have been too intent on the melody to hear even one word. We go then to find the singer, thinking she will be standing where we last saw her. There are only bones and sand and a few faded rags.”

“The first question we usually ask new parents is: “Is it a boy or a girl?”.There is a great answer to that one going around: “We don’t know; it hasn’t told us yet.” Personally, I think no question containing “either/or” deserves a serious answer, and that includes the question of gender.”

“I know the first person I kissed won't be nearly as important as the last person I kiss.”

“I know that the first person I kissed won't be nearly as important as the last person I kiss.”

“There is something there. Not desire, not romance, but acquiescence. She understands; she forgives. this is love, he thinks with a settling sigh. This is love. The duration is of no consequence We love to know we are known. We ache to know it.”