“Then took the quilt out of its linen wrapper for the pleasure of the brilliant colors and the feel of the velvet. The needlework was very fine and regular. Adair hated needlework and she could not imagine sitting and stitching the fine crow’s-foot seams.Writing was the same, the pinching of thoughts into marks on paper and trying to keep your cursive legible, trying to think of the next thing to say and then behind you on several sheets of paper you find you have left permanent tracks, a trail, upon which anybody could follow you. Stalking you through your deep woods of private thought.”

“You can’t put much on paper before you betray your secret self, try as you will to keep things civil.”

“Having you in my life is so comforting, because it's like you feel and say all the same things I always did, but hearing you say them somehow confirms them for me, the way it's impossible to feel the same pleasure from running your own fingers through your own hair. What I'm trying to say is, you just can't tickle yourself.”

“Did you forget I was with you? Are you trying to get me killed?""It's hard to forget you're behind me when your thighs are squeezing the life out of me." A smirk came with his next thought. "I couldn't think of a better way to die, actually.""There is something very wrong with you.”

“Maybe you need to get a grip on your libido, Barrons!"Fuck you, Ms. Lane!"You just try. I‘ll kick the shit out of you!"You think you could?"Bring it on." He grabbed a fistful of my T-shirt, and dragged me up against him until our noses touched.I‘ll bring it on, Ms. Lane. But remember you asked for it. So don‘t even think about trying to tap out on the mat and quit the fight."You hear anybody crying ‗Uncle‘ here, Barrons? I don‘t."Fine."Fine.”

“That kind of empty; when hope is no longer deferred but evaporated, and try as you might, and you do try, you can't find the pleasure in the little things. A fine meal, good music, a breathtaking view of the landscape, the smell of the ocean, snow falling, it all adds up to a storehouse of memories and regrets, and you can't imagine there's a perchance left to be had. ”