“But against love, the case was solid. Easily argued. And you could, indeed, hold it in your hand.”

“You ready to play?" Dave asked, bouncing it."I don't know," I said. "Are you going to cheat?""It's street ball!" He said checking it to me. "Show me that love."So chessy, i thought. But as i felt it, solid against my hands, i did feel something. I wasn't sure it was love. Maybe what remained of it, though, whatever that might be. "All right," I said. "Let's play.”

“What did it feel like, I wondered, to love someone that much? So much that you couldn't even control yourself when they came close, as if you might just break free of whatever was holding you and throw yourself at them with enough force to easily overwhelm you both.”

“Time wasn't a thing you could divide easily; there was no defined middle or beginning or end. I could pretend to leave the past behind, but it would not leave me.”

“Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.”

“The past did affect the present and the future, in ways you could see and a million ones you couldn't. Time wasn't a thing you could divide easily; there was no defined middle or beginning or end. I could pretend to leave the past behind, but it would not leave me.”

“But you, fine sir." John Miller clapped Dexter on the shoulder, a bit unsteadily. "You have problems of your own.""This is true," Dexter replied, nodding."The women," John Miller sighed.Dexter wiped a hand over his face, and glanced down the road. "The women. Indeed, dear squire, they perplex me as well.""Ah, the fair Remy," John Miller said grandly, and I felt a flush run up my face. Lissa, in the front seat, put a hand to her mouth."The fair Remy," Dexter repeated, "did not see me as a worthwhile risk.""Indeed.""I am, of course, a rogue. A rapscallion. A musician. I would bring her nothing but poverty, shame, and bruised shins from my flailing limbs. She is the better for our parting."John Miller pantomined stabbing himself in the heart. "Cold words, my squire.""Huffah," Dexter agreed."Huffah," John Miller repeated, "Indeed.”