“Since I'm not part of it yet, I see it: how a group of people can become a blizzard, how all the tie spent buying and picking out exactly the right clothes doesn't mean shit now because nobody is looking at clothes or poses.”

“How can something that doesn't have a form, doesn'r have a definition, doesn't have words-how can it have such weight? And yet, there's the need to swim.”

“traverse, v.You started to cry, and I quickly said, "No -- I mean this part is over. We have to get to the next part."And you said, "I'm not sure we can."Without even having to think about it, I replied, "Of course we can.""How can you be so sure?" you asked.And I said, "I'm sure. Isn't that enough?”

“She went on. "There's the drown of things and the swim of things, I guess. I've been going back and forth, back and forth. I feel the weight of it. And this bewilderment - how can something that doesn't have a form, doesn't have a definition, doesn't have words - how can it have such weight? And yet, there's the need to swim.""Life goes on," I offered."Yeah, but you see, 'Life goes on' is as a redundancy. Life is defined by its going on.”

“Dev's elbow hits my back and I press forward and she's right there and I'm reaching out and she's right there and right at that moment the amps amplify and the music takes on such a pulse that it becomes my heartbeat and her heartbeat and I know it and she knows it and this is the point where we could break apart and that would be it, totally it. But I look into her eyes and she looks into my eyes and we recognize it--the exitement of being here, the excitement of being now. And maybe I'm realizing what a part of it she is and maybe she's realizing what a part of it I am, because suddenly we're not crashing as much as we're combining. The chords swirling around us are becoming a tornado, tightening and tightening and tightening, and we are at the center of it, and we are at the center of each other. My wrist touches hers right at the point of our pulses, and I swear I can feel it. That thrum. We are moving to the music and at the same time we are a stillness. I am not losing myself in the barrage. I am finding her. And she is--yes, she is finding me.”

“Think about it. People in the sixteenth century - not to mention in Jesus's time - didn't look like this: perfect skin, perfect hairdos, spotless clothes. These are people who went to the bathroom in the street, for God's sake. There's no way they looked like this. But that's how we're going to remember them. Our alabaster past. When nothing else is left, art will become the truth of the time. Then people will get to the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and wonder what happened - how we all became so imperfect.”

“That air. The air afterwards. I wanted to breathe it in. It felt right to breathe it in. Because we were breathing them in, weren't we? And the building. We were breathing it all in. And I thought, there's a part of this that's actually a part of me now. I now have that responsibility. I am alive, and I am breathing, and I can do the things this dust can't do.”