“The sun is shining, mynah birds are chattering, palm trees are swaying, so what. I'm in the hospital and I'm healthy. My heart is beating as it should. My brain is firing off messages that are loud and clear. My wife is on the upright hospital bed, positioned the way people sleep on airplanes, her body stiff, head cocked to the side. Her hands on her lap.”

“Her heartbeat was in her hands, her heart beat the way she moved her head, her whole body was her heart beating.”

“Instinctively, and against my better judgement, I pull her closer to me. She rests her head on my shoulder as if it is the most natural thing in all the worlds to do.But it's a mistake. I become aware of her heart beating, her lungs expanding with every breath, her skin beneath my touch.She moves, and her head slides to my chest. Shifting into sleep, she wraps her arm around my waist. Now I'm aware of my heart beating too, slowly, in sync with hers. I know I should push her away. But if my life depended on it, right now, that would be impossible.”

“Without knowing what I'm doing, I'm on the floor in front of her chair, kneeling with my head in her lap, sobbing. She hugs me and strokes my head, and we both cry for a long time. (266)”

“The only way I'm keeping my hands off her is if I'm dead. Find another way to fix us.”

“I remembered looking down into her face, her eyes bright with new adventure and a little piece of my heart fell into her hands. My heart tumbled in pieces at her feet as she chipped away at it with her wondrous ways, and it didn’t form a whole again until half a year had passed and the end product was a living, beating organ in the palm of her hands.”