“If you listen, you can hear it.The city, it sings.If you stand quietly, at the foot of a garden, in the middle of the street, on the roof of a house.It's clearest at night, when the sound cuts more sharply across the surface of things, when the song reaches out to a place inside you.It's a wordless song, for the most, but it's a song all the same, and nobody hearing it could doubt what it sings. And the song sings the loudest when you pick out each note.”

“He says my daughter, and all the love he has is wrapped up in the tone of his voice when he says those two words, he says my daughter you must always look with both of your eyes and listen with both of your ears. He says this is a very big world and there are many many things you could miss if you are not careful. He says there are remarkable things all the time, right in front of us, but our eyes have like the clouds over the sun and our lives are paler and poorer if we do not see them for what they are.He says, if nobody speaks of remarkable things, how can they be called remarkable?”

“You must always look with both of your eyes and listen with both of your ears. He says this is a very big world and there are many many things you could miss if you are not careful. There are remarkable things all the time, right in front of us, but our eyes have like the clouds over the sun and our lives are paler and poorer if we do not see them for what they are. If nobody speaks of remarkable things, how can they be called remarkable?”

“He says when your grandmother died your mother cried solidly for a week, solidly.She was crying with relief he says, it was like as if a door had been unlocked and she'd been let outside, she said to me I'm safe now.He waits, and he says this kid, when it's born, you mustn't ever let it think it's anything other than a gift and a blessing, do you hear me?”

“They haven't spoken about it, they haven't said what will we do when we leave here, do you want to come with me, let's work something out, and she knows that this means they will quickly and easily drift apart, into other people's lives, into other people's arms in rooms like this. She is surprised that this doesn't make her feel sad. She listens to the music, she looks around at the things people dropped when they fell asleep or went out of the room, she kisses the boy's arm again and she feels only a kind of sweet nostalgia. She wonders if you can feel nostalgic for something before it's in the past, she wonders if perhaps her vocabulary is too small or if her chemical intake has corroded it and the music goes doowah doowah doowah.”

“Sense is the song you sing out into the world, and the song the world sings back to you.”

“‎'You know your in Love when you sing a song without air or grace, but the one you adore hears its Sweet Melody ”