“Together, we looked down at the tiny house, the sole thing on this vast, flat surface. Like the only person living on the moon. It could be either lonely or peaceful, depending on how you looked at it. "It's a start," I said.”

“The ocean and outer space are the same thing... There's no air. It's bleak and it's lonely... Humans have walked on the surface of the moon, but we still haven't been to the deepest part of the ocean.”

“I remember a man, a very lonely man, coming up to me at the end of a reading and looking into my face and saying, 'I feel as if I have looked down a corridor and seen into your soul.' And I looked at him and said, 'You haven't.' You know, Here's the good news and the bad news: you haven't! I made something, and you and I could look at it together, but it's not me; you don’t live with me; you're not intimate with me. You're not the man I live with or my friend. You will never know me in that way. I'm making something, like Joseph Cornell makes his boxes and everyone looks into them, but it's the box you look into; it's not the man or the woman. It's alchemy of language and memory and imagination and time and music and sounds that gets made, and that's different from 'Here is what happened to me when I was ten.”

“It all depends on how we look at things, and not on how they are themselves”

“How long could we do this before you started bitching?" Simon said as we turned down another street of apartment buildings."What?""We've been walking for two days now, and you haven't complained once. It's damned annoying, you know."I looked at him."If you don't complain, then I can't complain. Not without sounding like a whiny little snot.”

“I started down but Sam caught my arm and knelt down himself to look. "For crying out loud," he said. "It's a racoon." "Poor thing," I said. "It could be a rabid baby-killer," Cole told me primly. "Shut up," Sam said pleasantly.”