“Your heart, Mary Karr, he'd say. His pen touched my sternum, and it felt for all the world like the point of a dull spear as he said, Your heart knows what your head don't. Or won't.”

“Do you know what my father used to say?" I ask her. "He used to say that songs had a heart. A crescendo that can make all your blood rush from your head to your toes.”

“Mary, Mary don't say no, down the basement we shall go. Slap your ass against the wall, here i come balls and all. Won't your daddy be disgusted, when he sees your cherry busted. Won't your mama be surprised, when she sees your belly rise! Sound Off....(ect.)”

“And what if I'm the one who kills him?" "My heart is your heart," he said, "My hands are your hands.”

“My heart is your heart," he said. "My hands are your hands.”

“I don't know what's going on with you,' the man says from across the counter, 'but I'm not taking your money.' He blows into a straw and pinches both ends shut.I shake my head and reach back for my wallet. 'No, I'll pay.'He winds the straw tighter and tighter. 'I'm serious. It was only a milkshake. And like I said, I don't know what's going on, and I don't know how I can help, but something's clearly gone wrong in your life, so I want you to keep your money.' His eyes search mine, and I know he means it.I don't know what to say. Even if the words would come, my throat is so tight it won't let them escape.”