“When the dust has settled years later, we might ask ourselves, “What was I thinking?” and the answer is usually: You weren’t. Psychologists call that state of deluded madness “narcissistic love.” I call it “my twenties.”

“I was at the annual meeting of a state library association a few years later, when the children were in the process of leaving the nest, and one of the librarians asked me, "What do you think you and Hugh have done which was the best for your children?"I answered immediately and without thinking, "We love each other.”

“I think of how long we search to find a place we might call ours, where we might feel we have found a home: the perfect house in the perfect town; the sacred hollow; that place in the heart we call love; the state of grace we call salvation.”

“That night, it wasn’t Dobie Gray,” I whispered. “It was this song. It was Ella Mae singing this to me when I thought you weren’t all I knew you to be, which is all the words to this song. Twenty-nine years, I held out for this. Then, half an hour later, you proved every one of these words true and every moment since then, you kept doing it. I’ll take you thinking I’m your angel but you need to know you’re my hero. Twenty-nine, honey, I held out for this. Twenty-nine years, I held out for you.”

“The Doctor: Sorry, do you have a name?Idris: Seven hundred years and finally he asks. The Doctor: But what do I call you?Idris: I think you call me... Sexy? The Doctor: [embarrassed] Only when we're alone. Idris: We are alone. The Doctor: Oh. Come on then, Sexy.”

“What I was thinking, in that strange way you can think without words while you are dancing, think in glyphs, think in numbers, was how stupid it is that any of us are here, living. What an absurd game we play with ourselves, as if it mattered. We are all mad, all insane, all deluded. It is all for nothing, really, in the end.”