“...what makes you older is when your bones, muscles and blood wear out, when the heart sinks into oblivion and all the houses you ever lived in are gone and people are not really certain that your civilization ever existed.”

“Like some kind of strange vacuum cleaner I tried to console him. I recited the same old litanies that you say to people when you try to help their broken hearts, but words can't help at all.It's just the sound of another human voice that makes the only difference. There's nothing you're ever going to say that's going to make anybody happy when they're feeling shitty about losing somebody that they love.”

“The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine DisasterWhen you take your pillit's like a mine disaster.I think of all the people lost inside you.”

“Elizabeth's voice had a door in it. When you opened that door you found another door, and that door opened yet another door. All the doors were nice and led out of her.”

“My Name“I guess you are kind of curious as to who I am, but I am one of those who do not have a regular name. My name depends on you. Just call me whatever is in your mind.If you are thinking about something that happened a long time ago: Somebody asked you a question and you did not know the answer.That is my name.Perhaps it was raining very hard.That is my name.Or somebody wanted you to do something. You did it. Then they told you what you did was wrong—“Sorry for the mistake,”—and you had to do something else.That is my name.Perhaps it was a game you played when you were a child or something that came idly into your mind when you were old and sitting in a chair near the window.That is my name.Or you walked someplace. There were flowers all around.That is my name.Perhaps you stared into a river. There as something near you who loved you. They were about to touch you. You could feel this before it happened. Then it happened.That is my name.”

“He looked as if he'd got a lot of pleasure out of going ten rounds with your grandmother and making sure she went the whole distance.”

“Your Catfish FriendIf I were to live my lifein catfish formsin scaffolds of skin and whiskersat the bottom of a pondand you were to come by one eveningwhen the moon was shiningdown into my dark homeand stand there at the edge of my affectionand think, “It's beautifulhere by this pond. I wish somebody loved me,”I'd love you and be your catfishfriend and drive such lonelythoughts from your mindand suddenly you would be at peace,and ask yourself, “I wonderif there are any catfishin this pond? It seems likea perfect place for them.”