“I was on the verge of jumping into one of those holes in life out of which we emerge a bit tattered and bloody, though we remain sure nonetheless that we had to make the jump.”

“It was so surreal. We're on the road and a split second-BAM-we jump a median-BAM-we jump a curb.And then there was this house.And these sounds.Splintered glass.Broken bones.Severed veins.And that's all I know.The decisions that we make.”

“Well, the first reaction was, What smoke? When I looked and saw it, and we all ran to the back where we were far away from the flames-cowards as we are, you know-all sat around the emergency door and even tested the emergency door, ready to jump out. Of course, I said, Beatles and children first.”

“I believe this. When we meet those we fall in love with, there is an aspect of our spirit that is historian, a bit of a pedant who reminisces or remembers a meeting when the other has passed by innocently…but all parts of the body must be ready for the other, all atoms must jump in one direction for desire to occur.”

“The three of us do not go out very often as the three of us. I think Daniel is perfect for Jed, which is the highest compliment I can give. But my friendship isn't with him, and Jed understands that. When we hit the road, we hit it together alone.We get to the bridge, out undestined destination. Even though there's no sign, no arrow, Jed turns at the last minute and parks us in a verge right before the bridge leaves the ground.The trunk pops open, and Jed runs round back to retrieve a bag of oranges and a sweatshirt that fits me better.Shall we make like lizards and leap? he asks.I never felt the urge to jump off a bridge, but there are times I have wanted to jump out of my life, out of my skin. Would you stroll me down the promenade instead? I ask back.Most certainly, my splendid. There is no word for our kind of friendship. Two people tho don't see each other a lot, but can make each other effortlessly happy.”

“in the nineteenth year and the eleventh monthspeak your tattered Kaddish for all suicides:Praise to life though it crumbled in like a tunnelon ones we knew and lovedPraise to life though its windows blew shuton the breathing-room of ones we knew and lovedPraise to life though ones we knew and lovedloved it badly, too well, and not enoughPraise to life though it tightened like a knoton the hearts of ones we thought we knew loved usPraise to life giving room and reasonto ones we knew and loved who felt unpraisable.Praise to them, how they loved it, when they could.”