“He has had to learn to hide it, even more than most of us. Somewhere, I think, there is a center to him. It glows like a coal being slowly crushed into diamond, weighed down by layers and layers of surface.”

“Was there ever really a chance for us? What is down in the middle of him, his very center? Does he even have a center, or do you just cut away the layers, away, away, away, until you are left with nothing?”

“What affects me most powerfully: mourning in layers—a kind of sclerosis.[Which means: no depth. Layers of surface—or rather, each layer: a totality. Units]”

“I learned how to hide the scars underneath layers of makeup and a smile.”

“At their best, religious and spiritual communities help us discover this pure and naked spiritual encounter. At their worst, they simply make us more ashamed, pressuring us to cover up more, pushing us to further enhance our image with the best designer labels and latest spiritual fads, weighing us down with layer upon layer of heavy, uncomfortable, pretentious, well-starched religiosity.”

“A woman like Ally would have to be fought for, broken down, uncovered layer by reluctant layer. And he had the feeling that every layer would reveal something fascinating, unusual, worth the fight. Deep roots, as it were, instead of plastic artifice.”