“You didn't get past something like that, you go through it -- and for that reason alone, I understood more about her than she ever would have guessed.”

“She could sense it very clearly: for me, no less than for her, the past counted far more than the present, remembering something far more than possessing it. Compared to memory, every possession can only ever seem disappointing, banal, inadequate ... She understood me so well! My anxiety that the present 'immediately' turned into the past so that I could love it and dream about it at leisure was just like hers, was identical. It was 'our' vice, this: to go forwards with our heads forever turned back.”

“I knew what it was like to lose someone you loved. You didn't get past something like that, you got through it.”

“Her voice was like loneliness. It was regret. She sang about a past you couldn't get out of and didn't want.”

“She moaned into her pillow. "Go away. I feel like dying.""No fair maiden should die alone," he said, putting a hand on hers. "Shall I read to you in your final moments? What story would you like?"She snatched her hand back. "How about the story of the idiotic prince who won't leave the assassin alone?""Oh! I love that story! It has such a happy ending, too—why, the assassin was really feigning her illness in order to get the prince's attention! Who would have guessed it? Such a clever girl. And the bedroom scene is so lovely—it's worth reading through all of their ceaseless banter!”

“It was like we were both trying to hold onto something that was slipping through our fingers, and we didn't understand why. I understood more than him, of course, but just barely. I would never fully understand how I could have ever strayed from such a warm, sensitive and caring soul.”