“Look at me," he said, glancing down at his legs. "A wretched old man in a red monkey suit. A convicted murderer about to be gassed like an animal. And look at you. A fine young man with a beautiful education and a bright future. Where in the world did I go wrong? What happened to me?I've spent my life hating people, and look what I have to show for it. You, you don't hate anybody. And look where you're headed. We have the same blood. Why am I here?”

“Sorry," I said..."Sorry for what?" He glanced over at me."For whatever I did wrong," I said."Did you do something?"I shrugged, "Why are you not talking to me?""I'm just driving." He moved his hand from the gearshift onto my leg. "Do you like snowmobiling?""I love it," I said.He shot me a look. "Have you ever gone snowmobiling before?""No," I said.He smiled. God, I hate his smile, I love it so much.”

“I see you are looking at my feet," he said to her when car was in motion."I beg your pardon?" said the woman."I said I see you're looking at my feet"."I beg your pardon. I happened to be looking at the floor," said the woman, and faced the doors of the car."If you want to look at my feet, say so," said the young man. "But don't be a God-damned sneak about it.""Let me out here, please," the woman said quickly to the girl operating the car.The car doors opened and the woman got out without looking back."I have two normal feet and I can't see the slightest God-damned reason why anybody should stare at them," said the young man.”

“He shook his head, just looking at me."What?" I asked."Nothing," he said."Why are you looking at me like that?"Augustus half smiled. "Because you're beautiful. I enjoy looking at beautiful people, and I decided a while ago not to deny myself the simpler pleasures of existence.”

“Hey,Nik."I turned around to see Cole, dressed head to toe in black. Black suit, black shirt,black tie hanging loose around his neck.He looked me up and down. His gaze paused briefly on my legs, and his mouth opened slightly. I folded my arms."Um...you...look beautiful," he said."You look black," I replied."Thank you.That's the look I was going for." He held a hand out. "C'mon. Let's dance."I didn't move. "What were you going to show me?""Dance with me first."I shook my head."Look,Nik, I know you don't like public scrutiny lately. If you stand off to the side,all mopey and such, without a date,you'll stick out like a nun at a strip club." He leaned in. "Trust me, I've seen one. A nun at a strip club, that is.Everyone was staring at her.”

“I remember a man, a very lonely man, coming up to me at the end of a reading and looking into my face and saying, 'I feel as if I have looked down a corridor and seen into your soul.' And I looked at him and said, 'You haven't.' You know, Here's the good news and the bad news: you haven't! I made something, and you and I could look at it together, but it's not me; you don’t live with me; you're not intimate with me. You're not the man I live with or my friend. You will never know me in that way. I'm making something, like Joseph Cornell makes his boxes and everyone looks into them, but it's the box you look into; it's not the man or the woman. It's alchemy of language and memory and imagination and time and music and sounds that gets made, and that's different from 'Here is what happened to me when I was ten.”