“One outerpaddles aroundon his back, spinning a blue ballon his tummy.I could watch them for hours.Because they get it.They get that life is short and you should justforget the crapand have fun.”

“I get to live forever," he repeated. Luce was still lost, but he kept talking, a stream of words pouring out of his mouth. "I get to live, and to watch babies being born, and grow up, and fall in love. I watch them have babies of their own and grow old. I watch them die. I am condemned, Luce, to watch it all over again and again. Everyone but you." His eyes were glassy. His voice dropped to a whisper. "You don't get to fall in love--""But...," she whispered back. "I've...fallen in love.”

“Saimun pondered. How come that when something is difficult to get or you don’t have it, and you just get a chance to taste it for a moment, a small matter can become so big, doubling, trebling, growing ever larger? This morning one kretek cigarette dominated his whole soul. As if his life depended on one cigarette and if he could get that cigarette his life would be prolonged, as it were, for ever. One cigarette could fulfill his existence.”

“When a poet settled down to write a poem, could he foresee the lines he would write? Did his head constantly spin with riddles and rhymes and was his only job to put them down? What if he couldn’t get them to make sense, and no one, not even the person he cared for most, could have pleasure in reading it? What would he do?”

“A pat on the back to an artist now could one day result in your favorite film, or the cartoon you loved to get stoned watching, or the song that saves your life. Discourage an artist, you get absolutely nothing in return, ever.”

“My head spins as I glance away, refusing to get sucked back into his gaze when so much is at risk.”