“We grew up together but we won't grow old together.”

“In another life we are happy,” I murmur, squeezing my eyes shut. “In another life we grow old together.”

“We were supposed to grow old together, Dolores. Have kids. Take walks under old trees. I wanted to watch the lines etch themselves into your flesh and know when each and every one of them appeared. Die together.”

“We were wearing diapers at the same time. We didn’t grow up together, however. I was in the crib, and she was playing cribbage in the nursing home.”

“He stood up, put the tree back under the grow light. 'There. That's what's going to happen to us. It's called grafting. Taking something from one place and fixing it to another until they grow together. We didn't start from the same tree, but we're going to grow together like we did.”

“I'll be happy if running and I can grow old together.”