“Don Raimondo tells me what he can’t tell them. “The emptiness on the surface of a wall left by a sold bookshelf is the deepest I know. I take away with me the banished books, I give them a second life. Like the second coat in painting, used for finishing, a book’s second life is its best.” He’s rescued the library of a lover of American literature.”

“It feels as though Tony's a ghost, a wisp of someone I once loved, or never loved at all and thought was someone else. I don't feel anything, not even when he fucks me. I wonder if he knows. I wonder if he believes I still want him. I always tell myself it's the last time, but I don't leave. i exist instead inside this shell of a life we've created.”

“[D]on't ever apologise to an author for buying something in paperback, or taking it out from a library (that's what they're there for. Use your library). Don't apologise to this author for buying books second hand, or getting them from bookcrossing or borrowing a friend's copy. What's important to me is that people read the books and enjoy them, and that, at some point in there, the book was bought by someone. And that people who like things, tell other people. The most important thing is that people read...”

“Well, it seems to me that there are books that tell stories, and then there are books that tell truths... The first kind, they show you life like you want it to be. With villains getting what they deserve and the hero seeing what a fool he's been and marrying the heroine and happy endings and all that... But the second kind, they show you life more like it is... The first kind makes you cheerful and contented, but the second kind shakes you up.”

“A couple of times he called the second he'd finished reading a novel and just had to tell me about it, and I know it sounds hokey and librarianish to say so, but I just swooned when he did that.”

“　　When I was alone, I’d admit I didn't love her. At that point in my life I felt incapable of any kind of real love. In the deepest recesses of my personality, in places that it was hard for even me to fathom, I was a cold, hardhearted person capable of using people to further my ambition and then throw them away without second thought.”

“You have fought for and claimed your names, and though you may be struck, you will never fall. And that…” His eyes moisten, fear tingeing his voice, no, it’s apprehension. He takes a breath, steels himself. “And that is why I love you.”Seconds pass as his words settle in. I know what he wants to hear, what he aches to hear, what his eyes plead me for. But I can’t tell him that because he wants to hear it back. I can’t tell him that because it might be what he’s pinning his hopes on, a bulwark he’ll set against madness. I can’t tell him that because Heath could never get a guy like him. I can’t tell him that because I don’t want him to be alone, or because I don’t want to be alone. I can’t tell him that because of a million stupid reasons that he would eventually see through, and resent me for. I can’t lie to him.“I love you, Cale.”I tell him because I mean it.”