“When the pages are in the typewriter, I can't see his face.In that way i am choosing you over him.I don't need to see him.I don't need to know if he is looking up at me.It's not even that I trust him not to leave.I know this won't last.I'd rather be me than him.The words are coming so easily.The pages are coming easily.At the end of my dream, Eve put the apple back on the branch. The tree went back into the ground. It became a sapling, which became a seed.God brought together the land and the water, the sky and the water, the water and the water, evening and morning, something and nothing.He said, Let there be light.And there was darkness.”

“At the end of my dream, Eve put the apple back on the branch. The tree went back into the ground. It became a sapling, which became a seed.”

“I bumped into something and was knocked to the ground. It took me several breaths to gather myself together, at first I thought I’d walked into a tree, but then that tree became a person, who was also recovering on the ground, and then I saw that it was her, and she saw that it was me, ‘Hello,’ I said, brushing myself off, ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘This is so funny.’ ‘Yes.’ How could it be explained? ‘Where are you going?’ I asked. ‘Just for a walk,’ she said, ‘and you?’ ‘Just for a walk.’ We helped each other up, she brushed leaves from my hair, I wanted to touch her hair, ‘That’s not true,’ I said, not knowing what the next words out of my mouth would be, but wanting them to be mine, wanting, more than I’d ever wanted anything, to express the center of me and be understood. ‘I was walking to see you.’ I told her, ‘I’ve come to your house each of the last six days. For some reason I needed to see you again.’ She was silent, I had made a fool of myself, there’s nothing wrong with not understanding yourself and she started laughing, laughing harder than I’d ever felt anyone laugh, the laughter brought on tears, and the tears brought on more tears, and then I started laughing, out of the most deep and complete shame, ‘I was walking to you,’ I said again, as if to push my nose into my own shit, ‘because I wanted to see you again,’ she laughed and laughed, ‘That explains it,’ she said when she was able to speak. ‘It?’ ‘That explains why, each of the last six days, you weren’t at your house.’ We stopped laughing, I took the world into me, rearranged it, and sent it back out as a question: ‘Do you like me?”

“Even if I don't like what I am, I know what I am. My children like what they are, but they don't know what they are. So tell me which is worse.”

“I tried the key in all the doors, even though he said he didn't recognize it. It's not that I didn't trust him, becuase I did. It's that at the end of my search I wanted to be able to say: I don't know how I could have tried harder.”

“I wanted to hit him.I wanted to hold him.I wanted to shout myself into his ear.”

“I went to the lobby and asked Stan what he knew about the person who lived in 6A. He said 'Never seen anyone go in or come out. Just a lot of deliveries and a lot of trash.''Cool'. He leaned down and whispered 'Haunted'.I whispered back 'I don't believe in the paranormal'.He said 'Ghosts don't care if you believe in them'.I walked back up the steps, this time past our floor and to the sixth. There was a mat in front of the door which said 'welcome' in twelve different languages. That didn't seem like something a ghost would put in front of his apartment."― Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close”