“Her days come and go like birds, her dreams like days.”

“...since coming home, her life had stood still and a fine day like this made her impatient, almost desperate.”

“The bird music sank into her, like a song you used to know but forgot long ago. You hear a piano play it some day, and for a minute you feel a happy pain, but you don't know why. Bird felt like that.”

“Speak the name, and death will come. On the morrow, at the turn of the moon, a year from this day, it will come. A man does not fly like a bird, but one foot moves and then another and one day a man is there.”

“I’m like a staircase, she was like an elevator, and our relationship never escalated above friendship. I’d like to think we’ll one day be a couple, but I’m not going to wear a fishbowl on my head and dream about it. That wouldn’t be fair to me, her, or the goldfish I’d be displacing.”

“Reading dreams. That's what started her walking down the road. Every day she'd walk a little further: a mile, and come home. Two miles, and come home. One day she just kept on.”