“She didn't know how much she'd been hoping that he still loved her, until she felt how much it hurt to realize he didn't.”

“And she looked at me like she couldn't believe I knew she loved Anne Rice. I guess he didn't know how much she talked or how much I listened.”

“Oh shit, she'd done that wrong, hadn't she? She'd said that wrong, he didn't understand what she meant. She'd thought he would know, that he'd be able to read between the lines and understand, but what if he hadn't? SHould she say more? But how much more?”

“Whether he loved her or not didn't change how she felt about him. She loved him independent and regardless of whether he loved her.”

“I guess she didn't know how much she talked or how much I listened.”

“(He) had not realized how much he needed this sweet, friendly sound. How much he needed someone to settle in next to him. He didn't know that he needed to not be so solitary until at last he wasn't. So many needs in one old dog.”