“I close my eyes and feel the texture of brick on my fingers in my mind. I try to imagine the wall that surrounds your heart, so I can best devise a plan to breach it.”

“I looked briefly up from my notes. I was surrounded by hearts, sectioned and preserved. Hearts with holes. Hearts with leaking valves or thickened walls. Hearts with narrow or transposed aortas. I closed my eyes.”

“I have a plan." He groaned. "I was afraid of that.""My plans are not terrible.""Isabelle's plans are terrible." He pointed a finger at her. "Your plans are suicidal. At best.”

“Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feelWill I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be stillWill I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fallWill I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at allI can only imagineI can only imagine”

“How can i hope to succeed when surrounded by flaccid imaginations and puny minds when my head.. My head is filled with NIETZCHE?”

“Close your eyes and picture it. Can you see it?"I nod, eyes closed."Imagine it right there before you. See its texture, shape, and color—got it?"I smile, holding the image in my head."Good. Now reach out and touch it. Feel its contours with the tips of your fingers, cradle its weight in the palms of your hands, then combine all of your senses—sight, touch, smell, taste—can you taste it?"I bite my lip and suppress a giggle."Perfect. Now combine that with feeling. Believe it exists right before you. Feel it, see it, touch it, taste it, accept it, manifest it!" he says.So I do. I do all of those things. And when he groans, I open my eyes to see for myself."Ever." He shakes his head. "You were supposed to think of an orange. This isn't even close.""Nope, nothing fruity about him." I laugh, smiling ateach of my Damens—the replica I manifested before me, and the flesh and blood version beside me. Both of them equally tall, dark, and so devastatingly handsome they hardly seem real.”