“If it were me, I’d be flying off the handle and freaking out. But he’s not. He’s as calm as can be. We’re like yin and yang. Perfect opposites.”

“There's eternal opposition between yin and yang. No third party at all, but treason occurs sometimes.”

“He’s kissing me like the world is rolling right off a cliff, like he’s trying to hang on and he’s decided to hold on to me, like he’s starving for life and love and he’s never known it could ever feel this good to be close to someone. Like it’s the first time he’s ever felt anything but hunger and he doesn’t know how to pace himself, doesn’t know how to eat in small bites, doesn’t know how to do anything anything anything in moderation.”

“He’s good at this stuff.”“What stuff?”“Relationship stuff. He’s a natural. It’s weird, we’re new and we’re old. I can’t get my head around it.”“He’s shit at relationship stuff. He’s only good at it because it’s you.”“Sorry?”“You’re shit at it too, but only because it was never him.”

“We’re distant cousins. He’s my first cousin, but he’s 5,000 miles away. And he doesn’t talk much.”

“He’s a pagan! I’m an artist! We’re naturally sympathetic!”