“Other names came, but the square overflowed and the confusion pleased me. I shifted away from the window, turning my back on the apartment across the street. I moved to the living room and sat, silently thanking those who had brought me here and those had affected me, both above and below consciousness. I thought of the names in and around the magic square. I thought of their astounding number, both in the present and in the past, of Zandy and Angela, of Brian, of Granny, even of my father, whose disavowal of me led to this place, and I understood that as much as I had resisted the outside, as much as I had constricted my life, as much as I closed and narrowed the channels into me, there were still many takers for the quiet heart.”

“I understood that as much as I had resisted the outside, as much as I had constricted my life, as much as I had closed and narrowed the channels into me, there were still many takers for the quiet heart.”

“I quickly dropped my hands and changed the subject. "So those two who visited me the other night. Who were they?" I asked.He smiled, knowingly. "Ares and Aphrodite."Of course, I thought. In fact, I think I had already sort of figured that out. Although in my mind they were still Mr. Scowly Face and Miss Perfect Bitch. I found those the names I had given them much more appropriate”

“I felt I had thrown away so much inmy life, but I also felt an unspoken bond between me and my city.I'd spent so much time wandering the streets of L.A. and hikingthrough the Hollywood Hills that I sensed there was a nonhumanentity, maybe the spirit of the hills and the city, who had me in hersights and was looking after me. Even if I was a loner in my ownband, at least I still felt the presence of the city I lived in.”

“I had diverged, digressed, wandered, and become wild. I didn't embrace the word as my new name because it defined negative aspects of my circumstances or life, but because even in my darkest days—those very days in which I was naming myself—I saw the power of the darkness. Saw that, in fact, I had strayed and that I was a stray and that from the wild places my straying had brought me, I knew things I couldn't have known before.”

“...I couldn't let go of her hand. For a few moments, I looked at the shape of it, the roundness of her fingers. I realized that her hands gave me a sense of comfort because they were the most familiar part of her to me. Those hands had always been in my sight when I was a child. Those were the hands I held crossing the street, the hands that made me lunch and cooked me dinner, the hands that stroked me when I was feeling sad, the hands on the steering wheel driving me all over town, the hands whose rings I had looked at and played with, turning them around on her finger. I knew then that regardless of how we had fought and cried and how adoption had affected us both, those hands, free of words and emotional baggage, encompassed everything. They were pure love-all the love that she had for me.”