“My heart nearly stopped. I could feel my pores open to release what sweat I had left.”

“I stopped and listened. But all I could hear was.. a kind of thudding, and not in me but somewhere near me... my heart.”

“I could feel parts of my body that had never sweated before break out in nervous droplets.”

“I'd left behind a thousand tons of marble, I could have released sculptures, I could have released myself from the marble of myself. I'd experienced joy, but not nearly enough, could there be enough?”

“I have opened all the doors in my head. I have opened all the pores in my body. But only the tide rolls in.”

“This is my heart. You are touching it with your left hand. You are touching it with your left hand, not because you are left-handed, although you might be, but because I am holding it against my heart. What you are feeling is the beating of my heart. It is what keeps me alive.”