“…round the back of my little heart I could hear a lonely breeze whistling away everything I cared about.”

“I tried to whip some feelings up but the inside of my chest was as hollow as an empty rubbish bin; totally, absolutely dried up, with my poor, tiny heart lying at the bottom like a crushed coke can.”

“I had a fierce headache and (my parents’) soft conversation was like a light rain falling on the hot roof of my head.”

“I had schooled myself since the war-days never to speak of my enthusiasms; when other people did not share them, which was usual, I was hurt and my pleasure diminished; why was I always excited about things other people did not care about? But I could not hold in.”

“Used to be hewas my heart's desire.His forthright gaze,his expert hands:I'd lie on the couch with my eyesclosed just thinking about it.Never about the factthat everything changes,that even this,my best passion,would not be immune.No, I would bask on in aneternal daydream of the handsfinding me, the gaze like a windingstair coaxing me down. . . .Until I caught a glimpseof something in the mirror:silly girl in her lingerie,dancing with the furniture--a hot little bundle, flush withcliches. Into that pairof too-bright eyes I lookedand saw myself. And something else:he would never look that way.”

“You don't have a heartbeat," I realized. "Does that bother you?" He asked."No." I thought for a minute. "As long as you can feel things and care about things.""It's a misconception that you need a heart to love," Asher whispered into my hair.”

“So I placed my heart under lock and key To take some time, and take care of me But I turn around and you're standing here”