“The silkiness of his voice was a torturous caress that I could have endured for the rest of my life.”

“What I wanted to preserve was the turbulent gasp in his voice which lingered with me for days afterward and told me that, if I could have him like this in my dreams every night of my life, I'd stake my entire life on dreams and be done with the rest. (p. 109)”

“Partly I was honing my self-consciousness into a torture device, sharp and efficient enough to last me the rest of my life.”

“And if I could bottle the look on his face, I'd keep it by my bedside for the rest of my life.”

“I don't hear your words: your voice reverberates against my body like another kind of caress, another kind of penetration. I have no power over your voice. It comes straight from you into me. I could stuff my ears and it would find its way into my blood and make it rise.”

“Dark chocolate, poured over velvet: that was how his voice tasted. I wanted him to follow me around and narrate the rest of my life.”