“Something passes between us that I'm pretty sure both of us can feel, even though neither one of us says anything. It's not even any kind of attraction, even though I've been feeling that on and off all night. This is something different.We have a secret now. A secret from Ava.”

“There are three kinds of secrets. Something that you hide at the bottom of your heart because you don't want it to be mentioned. Something that you can't say even if you want to and something that you hope someone asks about even though you're hiding it.”

“Even if we become glowing clouds of ectoplasm, there's going to be something we're competing for - and most of us will feel as though we're getting screwed.”

“I had the feeling she was going to say something big. One of us had to say it. What happened to us? Where are we going? It was like this silence between us was frozen and we were both feeling our way around it. How is it that two people can need each other so absolutely and then, in moments, not even know how to be next to each other and just be quiet?”

“As for what, exactly, was said about the future, all I can say is that, speaking as indirectly as we were, transferred between us was only a feeling, or a shift in feeling, something like the sense of solid ground underfoot after walking for days or even months on spongy bog, a shift that I would be hard pressed, both then and now, but especially now, all these years later, to put into words.”

“I give in and light another cigarette even though last night the surgeon general came on the television set and shook his finger at everybody, trying to convince us that smoking will kill us. But Mother once told me tongue kissing would turn me blind and I'm starting to think it's all just a big plot between the surgeon general and Mother to make sure no one ever has any fun.”