“The thing I was beginning to figure out about Sam and Grace, the thing about Sam not being able to function without her, was that that sort of love only worked when you were sure both people would always be around for each other. If one half of the equation left, or died, or was slightly less perfect in their love, it became the most tragic, pathetic story invented, laughable in its absurdity. Without Grace, Sam was a joke without a punch line.”
“What were you thinking about? When I came in?""Being Sam," I said."What a nice thing to be," Grace said. And then she smiled, bigger and bigger, until I felt my expression mirror hers, our noses touching.”
“Sam:"Okay, what words would you use then?" I leaned back in the seat, thinking, as Sam looked at me doubtfully. He was right to look doubtful. My head didn't work with words very well- at least not in this abstract, descriptive sort of way.Grace:"Sensitive" I tried.Sam translated: "Squishy"Grace:"Creative"Sam:"Dangerously emo"Grace:"Thoughtful"Sam:"Feng shui."I laughed so hard I snorted.Grace:"How did you get feng shui out of thoughtful?"Sam:"You know, because in feng shui, you arrange funiture and plants and stuff in thoughtful ways.”
“Many, many readers have written asking me wistfully about the nature of Sam and Grace's relationship, and I can assure you, that sort is absolutely real. Mutual, respectful, enduring love is completely attainable as long as you swear you won't settle for less.”
“Its beyond him now. its time for you to do you own thing.""My thing? my thing only worked if Grace was here to make it work. without Grace, i have an emotionally unbalanced wolf and a Volkswagen.”
“He'd only been gone two seconds, but the room got brighter when they were together, as if they were two elements that became brilliant in proximity. At Sam's clumsy efforts to carry the vacuum, Grace smiled a new smile that I thought only he ever got, and he shot her a withering look full of the sort of subtext you could only get from a lot of conversations whispered after dark.It made me think of Isabel, back at her house. We didn't have what Sam and Grace had. We weren't even close to having it. I didn't think what we had could get to this, even if you gave it a thousand years.”
“Of all the things I found puzzling about Sam, this one was always the most puzzling: his sudden, self-deprecating mood swings... Was this what it meant to be creative?”