“We made love like September swims in August. But that’s natural, because it’s too cold to go swimming in October.”

“I can’t swim, because despite my love being shaped like Michael Phelps, it’s so heavy it’s like an anti flotation device. If I can barely even carry it, I can understand how it’s a burden to you and why you don’t want to keep it in your heart.”

“It doesn’t matter if I don’t have a suit, you should still invite me swimming. That’s the naked truth.”

“I’m going to Australia. But first I’ve got to put on my swimming suit and stretch.”

“I’d use my shadow as a blanket, but it’s too cold. It’s a shame, because it’d fit snuggly over my body.”

“A brick is a lot like love. I mean, I’m sure it is. It simply must be. However, I can’t think of how at the moment, but that’s natural, because I’m not Cupid. OK, here’s something: A brick has six sides, and love—wait, no, love only has five sides. Damn! A brick is red, and love—is transparent (visually it’s invisible, and truthfully it’s transparent). So color is out, shape is out—which leaves sound. A brick is silent, while love sounds like the hum of an electric generator. After a while, you may not hear it and you think it’s silent, but that’s only because you’re acclimated to it and have tuned it out.
”

“We made eyes at each other, and then we made love. We also made other things too, like meatloaf.”