“They knew each other. He knew her and so himself, for in truth he had never known himself. And she knew him and so herself, for although she had always known herself she had never been able to recognize it until now.”

“He knew he would have to believe in order to go where she had been; knew that, if he believed, he could go there even if it didn't exist, if it was make-believe. He moved the hand she had drawn around her down her long flesh, and with a little sound she pressed herself against him. He searched himself for that old will, long in disuse. If she went there, ever, he didn't want to be left behind; wanted to never be farther from than this.”

“She told him of ship voyages she had taken to places he had never heard of, and stories he knew were all untrue, were bad not-truths, even, but he nodded, and tried to convince himself to be convinced, tried to believe her, because he knew that the origin of the story is always an absence and he wanted to live among presences.”

“She herself had never been able to be altogether herself: it had been denied her.”

“He had known so much about her once -what she thought, how she felt, the reasons for her actions. And now he only knew that he loved her, and all the other knowledge seemed passing from him just as he needed it most.”

“She shook her head. She had been in that exact position on a number of occasions with Clark. She knew how easy it could be to just escape with Jack when she couldn't be around Clark. As wrong as she knew it was, she hadn't been able to stop herself. She had always thought that desperation came from wanting Jack, but maybe things were different with him. Perhaps he had always done it because he enjoyed the cloak and dagger effect of hiding and running away from his life with her.”