“Those children are right," he would have said. "They stole nothing from you, my dear. These things don't belong to you here, you now. They belonged to her, that other you, so long ago." Oh, thought Mrs. Bentley. And then, as though an ancient phonograph record had been set hissing under a steel needle, she remembered a conversation she had once had with Mr. Bentley--Mr. Bentley, so prim, a pink carnation in his whisk-broomed lapel, saying, "My dear, you never will understand time, will you? You've always trying to be the things you were, instead of the person you are tonight. Why do you save those ticket stubs and theater programs? They'll only hurt you later. Throw them away, my dear." But Mrs. Bentley had stubbornly kept them. "It won't work," Mr. Bentley continued, sipping his tea. "No matter how hard you try to be what you once were, you can only be what you are here and now. Time hypnotizes. When you're nine, you think you've always been nine years old and will always be. When you're thirty, it seems you've always been balanced there on that bright rim of middle life. And then when you turn seventy, you are always and forever seventy. You're in the present, you're trapped in a young now or an old now, but there is no other now to be seen." It had been one of the few, but gentle, disputes of their quiet marriage. He had never approved of her bric-a-brackery. "Be what you are, bury what you are not," he had said. "Ticket stubs are trickery. Saving things is a magic trick, with mirrors." If he were alive tonight, what would he say? "You're saving cocoons." That's what he'd say. "Corsets, in a way, you can never fit again. So why save them? You can't really prove you were ever young. Pictures? No, they lie. You're not the picture." "Affidavits?" No, my dear, you are not the dates, or the ink, or the paper. You're not these trunks of junk and dust. You're only you, here, now--the present you." Mrs. Bentley nodded at the memory, breathing easier. "Yes, I see. I see." The gold-feruled cane lay silently on the moonlit rug. "In the morning," she said to it, "I will do something final about this, and settle down to being only me, and nobody else from any other year. Yes, that's what I'll do." She slept . . .”

“It won't work,' Mr. Bentley continued, sipping his tea. 'No matter how hard you try to be what you once were, you can only be what you are here and now. Time hypnotizes. When you're nine, you think you've always been nine years old and will always be. When you're thirty, it seems you've always been balanced there on that bright rim of middle life. And then when you turn seventy, you are always and forever seventy. You're in the present, you're trapped in a young now or an old now, but there is no other now to be seen.”

“You're a hopeless romantic," said Faber. "It would be funny if it were not serious. It's not books you need, it's some of the things that once were in books. The same things could be in the 'parlor families' today. The same infinite detail and awareness could be projected through the radios, and televisors, but are not. No,no it's not books at all you're looking for! Take it where you can find it, in old phonograph records, old motion pictures, and in old friends; look for it in nature and look for it in yourself. Books were only one type or receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us. Of course you couldn't know this, of course you still can't understand what I mean when i say all this. You are intuitively right, that's what counts.”

“You're not like the others. I've seen a few; I know. When I talk, you look at me. When I said something about the moon, you looked at the moon, last night. The others would never do that. The others would walk off and leave me talking. Or threaten me. No one has time any more for anyone else. You're one of the few who put up with me. That's why I think it's so strange you're a fireman, it just doesn't seem right for you, somehow.”

“I can be tough, i can be strong,but with you, it's not like that at all.there's a girl that gives a s---behind this wall, you just walk through itand i remember all those crazy things you saidyou left them running through my head,you're always there, you're everywhere,but right now i wish you were here,all those crazy things we did,didn't think about just went with it,you're always there, you're everywhere, but right now i wish you were heredamn damn damn what i'd do to have you here, here, herei wish you were heredamn damn damn, what i'd do to have you near, near, neari wish you were herei love the way you are,it's who I am,don't have to try hard,we always say, say it like it is,and the truth is that i really miss,”

“Lowering his voice, he said, "In America we have a custom. When you're given presents for your birthday, you're supposed to open them and say thank you."Tatiana nervously looked down at the present. "Thank you." Gifts were not something she was used to. Wrapped gifts? Unheard of, even when they came wrapped only in plain brown paper."No. Open first. Then say thank you."She smiled. "What do I do? Do I take the paper off?""Yes. You tear it off.""And then what?""And then you throw it away.""The whole present or just the paper?"Slowly he said, "Just the paper.""But you wrapped it so nicely. Why would I throw it away?""It's just paper.""If it's just paper, why did you wrap it?""Will you please just open my present?" said Alexander”

“I thought you'd be halfway to Tokyo by now,” she said, stalling.“Not without you.”Oh, man, she was so screwed. He was bad enough when he was giving her shit. Right now he was looking at her as ifshe was the most precious thing on earth, and she knew what she looked and smelled like. The world had turned upsidedown.“I don't suppose you love me,” she said. “Even a little bit?”“Don't be an idiot, Ji-chan. Why else would I be here? Now, do you want to stay here or do you want to prove you're reallycrazy and come with me?”“Will you grow your hair again?”“If you want me to.”“Then tell me.”“You're not going to make this easy, are you? Su-chan warned me about you.”“She warned me, too. Tell me.”He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Aishiteru,” he muttered.“In English.”“I love you.”