“I appreciate your help, but that still does not satisfy my confusion. Who are you?” she asks as she sits forward.“I could be asking you the same thing, Mrs. Peeper,” he says as he laughs.”

“You notice that he does not ask, Where am I?" says the Mayor's voice, moving out there, somewhere. "His first words are, Where is she? And his Noise says the same. Interesting.”

“Do you think you might be able to love me someday?" He asked and heard her laugh softly."I already do." She said and his soul soared. "So this is what the poets write about? This is what they call love?" She asked."Yes my love." He said softly."They do not do it justice." She stated and he laughed."I agree." He told her as he held her, wondering how this could be real.”

“But what does he do to qualify as a sonovabitch?” Jenny asked.“Make me”, I replied.“Beg pardon?”“Make me”, I repeated.Her eyes widened like saucers. “You mean like incest?” she asked.“Don’t give me your family problems, Jen. I have enough of my own.”“Like what, Oliver?” she asked, “like just what is it he makes you do?”“The ‘right things’”, I said. “What’s wrong with the ‘right things’?” she asked, delighting in the apparent paradox.”

“What do you think she would say about my Match?" I ask him. "About what happened today?" He's quiet, and I wait. "I think she would ask you if you wondered.”

“Why haven’t you asked me how I do my tricks?” Celia asks, once they have reached the point where she is certain he is not simply being polite about the matter.“Because I do not wish to know,” he says. “I prefer to remain unenlightened, to better appreciate the dark.”