“I like the him that's underneath the clothes and the painted face.”

“I'd see him do things that didn't fit with his face or hands, things like painting a picture at OT with real paints on a blank paper with no lines or numbers anywhere on it to tell him where to paint, or like writing letters to somebody in a beautiful flowing hand. How could a man who looked like him paint pictures or write letters to people, or be upset and worried like I saw him once when he got a letter back?”

“Sleeping in your clothes makes you tired. The clothes are crumpled, and also your body underneath them. I feel as if I've been rolled into a bundle and thrown on the floor.”

“I like to hang out clothes on windy days. Sometimes that's all I feel like. A sheet on a line.”

“We all paint on a face to show the world," Nicholas replies philosophically. "For some of us, that's quite literal.”

“Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?”