“Love has been buried forever under the leaves at my feet. I lie down on the ground and rest my head on my bag. The grass tickles my arms where I bend the stalks under my neck.I want to sleep.”

“He lied. I lied. Any love that starts out under a lie is bound to kill you. I just didn't want to die on my feet.”

“They're going to leave me. All I wanted to do was lie in the dry prickly grass with my feet in a ditch forever. I could be a convenient sort of milemarker, I thought. Get to the thief and you know you are halfway to Methana. Where ever Methana might be.”

“I stared at myself in the mirror. Okay, just ugh. I had to get some sleep tonight - the bags under my eyes had bags.”

“I put my head under my pillow and let the quiet put things where they are supposed to be.”

“This is what I love to do: I love to run through a field of wet grass that has not been mowed recently, I love to run, keeping my snout low to the ground so the grass and the sparkles of water cover my face. I imagine myself as a vacuum cleaner, sucking in all the smells. all the life, a spear of summer grass. It reminds me of my childhood, back on the farm in Spangle, where there was no rain but there was grass, there were fields, and I ran. ~ p208”