“Was that how he'd died, she wondered, among dreams, crushed by the only ikon in the house?”
“I wondered if this was the way old crushes died, with a whimper, slowly, and then, just like that—gone.”
“She had no experience of crushing on someone like that. She hadn't realized before how frightening it was to look a dream in the face. To realize how much it could change you live, and how much it could demand of you.”
“I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.”
“Earlier, watching her apply mascara with ritual concentration, he'd wondered just how beautiful a woman had to be before she believed it.”
“Grips slipped. Hers had from every surface. She's shaped nothing after all, only been crushed and reshaped. No wonder she felt for the brownstones, the cripples, now filling chaotically with no regard for her plan.”