“(About her brief experience writing greeting cards...) I even wrote for a greeting card company -- for about a month. A family friend asked me to do it, but I hated it. Hated it. I told her I'd rather wear hats. Fortunately, she laughed. ”

“Why couldn't Rachel be a little more specific about the type of person she was? Goodness knew; if she were a hippie I'd talk to her about her drug experiences, the zodiac, tarot cards. If she were left-wing I'd look miserable, hate Greece, and eat baked beans straight from the tin. If she were the sporty type I'd play her at... chess and backgammon and things.”

“Friends and acquaintances in this day and age don't write at all, or if they do it's only to let you know they're still alive,which explains the craze for greeting cards of all kinds!”

“I never hear about dear Mike. I wrote Ellen Greene and asked about him and she replyed and never mentioned Mike but told me all about her roomatism. As if I cared about her roomatism.”

“I told her I'd rather talk about her, instead of listening to her drone on about the weather. Little did I know she was an aspiring meteorologist.”

“But only people you care about can hurt you. That doesn't mean I love her. Hate is not the opposite of love; not caring is. And as long as I hate her, I still care about her, and she has the power to hurt me. To make me hate myself.”