“As a wise Pug once said, all you need is love, kibble and a de-worming tablet every three to six months.”

“I loved a girl once,' said he. 'Vorshula was her name. She has been lying in the graveyard of Seidewinkel six months now...”

“How could you fall in love with a three inch worm?”

“Six months of waiting. Six months of understanding the inner workings of faith and the outer spheres of the world. Six months of time: hundreds and millions of awakening seconds and sleeping minutes. Six months of aching stretched out like the Sahara: lickety-split, snippety-snip, jiggity-jig Six months of fading and blooming, stopping and starting. Six months of love: a breath, a deluge, an eternity; a single flake of snow.”

“Did you know that the average American spends six months of his or her life waiting for red lights to turn green? Six months wasted, waiting for permission to move on. Think of all the other stuff you could do with that time.”I was totally confused. “In the car?” “In your life,” he said.”

“Grief was like a newborn, and the first three months were hard as hell, but by six months you'd recognized defeat, shifted your life around, and made room for it.”