“...and yet could swear it was just then that I fell in love. It wasn't, of course, simply the onions -- it was the sudden sense of an individual woman, of a frankness that was so often later to make me happy and miserable.”

“Frankly, people don't make sense to me.' I nod in agreement. 'Frankly, people don't make sense to me either,' I say.”

“I was glad I wasn't in love, that I wasn't happy with the world. I like being at odds with everything. People in love often become edgy, dangerous. They lose their sense of perspective. They lose their sense of humor. They become nervous, psychotic bores. They even become killers.”

“I have been crying," she replied, simply, "and it has done me good. It helps a woman you know, just as swearing helps a man.”

“You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so.”

“I remember one morning getting up at dawn. There was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling. And I... I remember thinking to myself: So this is the beginning of happiness, this is where it starts. And of course there will always be more...never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment, right then.”