“...the hearts gone bubonic with jealousy and greed, glinting through the vests and sweaters of anyone at all.”

“If I had not kissed anyone, or danced with anyone, or had a reason to cry, the music made me feel as if I had gone through all that anyway.”

“As you look with jealousy and greed in your neighbor’s house, you put you own house at risk.” L.K”

“You worry about your parents, siblings, spouses dying, yet no one prepares you for your friends dying. Every time you flip through your address book, you are reminded of it---she's gone, he's gone, they're both gone. Names and numbers and addresses scratched out. Page after page of gone, gone, gone. The sense of loss that you feel isn't just for the person. It is the death of your youth, the death of fun, of warm conversations and too many drinks, of long weekends, of shared pains and victories and jealousies, of secrets that you couldn't tell anyone else, of memories that only you two shared.”

“It did make a flash of jealousy go through me, but his heart was mine, and I didn’t doubt that. How could I, after he’d branded himself?”

“Warm-hearted! I should think he has to wear asbestos vests!”