“The inside of the door is glossy white. A total re-paint. I touch it with my fingers, but it stays the same. It's so bright it makes the room waver at the edges. Every few years we disappear.”

“Every few years we disappear, Zoey. All our cells are replaced by others. Not a single bit of me is the same as when I was last in this room.”

“Making Room:When I first met him, I knew in a moment I would have to spend the next few days re-arranging my mind so there'd be room for him to stay.”

“I stayed with you inside the room, as the warm white walls became a womb.”

“Whiles in the early Winter eve We pass amid the gathering night Some homestead that we had to leave Years past; and see its candles bright Shine in the room beside the door Where we were merry years agone But now must never enter more, As still the dark road drives us on. E'en so the world of men may turn At even of some hurried day And see the ancient glimmer burn Across the waste that hath no way; Then with that faint light in its eyes A while I bid it linger near And nurse in wavering memories The bitter-sweet of days that were.”

“Everywhere he touches is fire. My whole body is burning up, the two of us becoming twin points of the same bright white flame.”