“Spirituality is not about how far up the mountain we get but how many we take with us.”

“Trick.” I say a little louder.“Shhh, sleep baby.” He mumbles. I laugh and smack his arm.“Wake up. I can feel your morning wood.” This gets his attention and he sits up, taking me with him. The arms wrapped around my middle graze my breasts as he shifts up and a tingle shoots straight between my legs.“God, Caroline, I’m so...” He stops, probably realizing that he doesn't have morning wood, “I don't have...” He’s actually pretty cute all sleepy. He laughs.“I know but I couldn't figure out how else to get your attention.” I shrug.”

“The sun was crouched on its haunches over the Pioneers. The mountains were both purple and brown, the angle of light hitting the moiré of pine and fir and bleeding out a smoky mirage that made the valley seem to tremble. It was a sight. We both looked.”

“Do you ever get the feeling like you already know the entire contents of the universe somewhere inside of your head, as if you were born with a complete map of this world already grafted onto the folds of your cerebellum and you are just spending your entire life figuring out how to access this map?”

“How funny.” I say flatly. “and I was hoping for a battle of wits but you appear to be unarmed.” His laugh fills the silence and brings a smile to my face.”

“Dr. Clair looked at Layton. The mancala pieces were still in her hand.If Angela Ashforth ever says anything like that to you again, you tell her that just because she's insecure about being a little girl in a society that puts an inordinate amount of pressure on little girls to live up to certain physical, emotional and ideological standards -- many of which are improper, unhealthy and self-perpetuating -- doesn't mean she has to take her misplaced self-loathing out on a nice boy like you. You may be inherently a part of the problem but that doesn't mean you aren't a nice boy with nice manners and it certainly doesn't mean you have AIDS."I'm not sure I can remember all that," Layton said.Well then, tell Angela that her mother is a white trash drunk from Butte.”

“I'm a practicing Zen Buddhist and I'm influenced by my readings in that tradition, such as the notion that everyone is born a perfect being and we spend most of our lives with a clouded vision trying to realize our perfection," he says. At critical moments in the book, T.S. registers his inkling of this realization. When he makes his maps, it feels like taking down dictation from the universe.”