“We could try to go together, "I said. "I think we'd both fit, and that way, if we end up transported to another dimension or morphed into a wall, at least we'd have company.”

“But we'd had only so many nights together, and the notebook had only so many pages, and that world was never going to get any bigger. The truth was that I couldn't have kept her even if she'd lived. At the end, we'd both been pushing at the walls of our secret world, pushing at each other. We'd given each other everything we could. It wasn't enough for either of us anymore.”

“We'd both been pushing at the walls of our secret world, pushing at each other. We'd give each other everything we could.”

“Even if we could turn back, we'd probably never end up where we started.”

“The world was in terrible shape, and I'm glad we stood up and said what we believed; but a lot of the time we'd say these beautiful things about justice and fairness and equality, but we weren't so nice to each other. We'd be jealous and we'd gossip, and we'd be moody and difficult and rude and inconsiderate. Why do I say 'we'? I mean I would be all that-- and if at the time I ever came near to knowing what I'd become, I'd dodge, I'd duck, I'd go on the offensive: the terrible Wall Street bankers. Lots of them were terrible-- and so were lots of us.”

“If only we'd stop trying to be happy, we could have a pretty good time.”