“Every time she heard the click of the shutter, followed by that faint rustle, she remembered when she used to catch grasshoppers in the garden of their house in the mountains when she was a little girl, trapping them between her cupped hands. She thought that it was the same with photographs, only now she seized time and fixed it on celluloid, capturing it halfway through its jump toward the next moment.”

“She was halfway through the second yard when she heard Cyprien fall and curse.No man in the world will turn down a blow job, Alex thought as she dodged through yards and around the houses, putting as much distance between them as she could. And no man, not even Cyprien, could chase a girl with his pans down.”

“She could remember a time when she thought things could be right with her and Jack. Now it seemed like that was such a long time ago. How could she have ever told herself things were going to be alright? She now knew with every once of her being that there was absolutely nothing left of the man she had once loved.”

“This is the last time, the girl thought, that she would remember these things. If they floated back to her again, she would paddle away. When the remembering was done, the forgetting could begin.”

“She read all sorts of things: travels, and sermons, and old magazines. Nothing was so dull that she couldn't get through with it. Anything really interesting absorbed her so that she never knew what was going on about her. The little girls to whose houses she went visiting had found this out, and always hid away their story-books when she was expected to tea. If they didn't do this, she was sure to pick one up and plunge in, and then it was no use to call her, or tug at her dress, for she neither saw nor heard anything more, till it was time to go home.”

“She took a moment to lament her lack of parasol. Every time she left the house, she felt keenly the absence of her heretofore ubiquitous accessory.”