“You're a poem?' I repeated.She chewed her lower lip. 'If you want. I am a poem, or I am a pattern, or a race of people whose whose world was swallowed by the sea.''Isn't it hard to be three things at the same time?''What's your name?''Enn.''So you are Enn,' she said. 'And you are a male. And you are a biped. Is it hard to be three things at the same time?”

“I am a poem, or I am a pattern, or a race of people whose world was swallowed by the sea.”

“At least I understand her. At least I am willing to give her what she needs.”“You’re willing to give her what she wants. That’s not the same thing. I’m not afraid to push her where she needs to be.”“Perhaps you push too hard.”“Did she say that?”Asmoday flashes a white smile. “She does not have to.”

“It doesn't matter. You are what you are. I am what I am. We are the same-when you take the time to remember me.”

“The question is are you okay?” he asked, looking down at her with concern. “That was quite a spill you took.” “I...I’m fine.” Her gaze centered on his mouth. Then, she did the most torturous thing she could have done to a man whose lower torso was pressed against hers and whose mouth was just a few scant inches from those fleshy, pink lips. She ran her tongue across her lips to wet them. And he thought super glue got hard fast.”

“I make lots of mistakes. I try hard not to make the same mistake more than three or four times.”