“For almost a decade I was haunted by the memory of Deborah Black, I was about to claim. But the memory didn't haunt me; I haunted the memory. Went to it, at night or in the deadened hours of empty afternoons, woke it up, reminded it of all the fun we'd had, made it do things with me.”
“What I caught that winter was a memory of a purpose.”
“Memories. Weighty emptinesses. I live in a memory the size and shape of a house.”
“I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.”
“One of the Georges - I forget which - once said that a certain number of hours' sleep each night - I cannot recall at the moment how many - made a man something which for the time being has slipped my memory.”