“I nearly tripped over Stieglitz, my dog, a forty-pound black-and-white keeshond (pronounced caze-hawnd) furball. He lunged at me with unbridled glee because the mere sight of my presence always made his day. It's important to have a dog. Dogs love unconditionally. (Thwonk)”

“You know where we got stuck? We were looking for faithfull, loving and perfect relationships-males who were always glad to see us." "So?" "We already have that!" "What do you mean?" "We've got dogs!”

“I had taken the photograph from afar (distance being the basic glitch in our relationship), using my Nikon and zoom lens while hiding behind a fake marble pillar. I was hiding because if he knew I'd been secretly photographing him for all these months he would think I was immature, neurotic and obsessive. I'm not.I'm an artist.Artists are always misunderstood.(Thwonk)”

“I don't do normal. I have a reputation to uphold. (Thwonk)”

“She studied my face.I rubbed my eyes. "I'm fine," I assured her.That was five months ago. I wasn't fine then and I'm not fine now. (Thwonk)”

“Harrison wrote a two-page poem about his deep feelings of loss when his dog Filbert died, and Mrs. Minerva, the creative writing teacher, gave it a B-minus. Do you know what that does to a a person to get a B-minus in Grief?”

“My grandma always said that God made libraries so that people didn't have any excuse to be stupid.”