“American Baseball It's for real, not for practice, and it's televised,not secret, the way you'd expect a civilized countryto handle delicate things, it's in color, it's happeningnow in Florida, "This Is American Baseball" the announcerannounces as the batter enters the box, we are watching,and it could be either of us standing there waitingfor the pitch, avoiding the eye of the pitcher as we takea few practice cuts, turning to him and his tiny friends inthe outfield, facing the situation, knowing that someonebehind our backs is making terrible gestures, standingthere to swing and miss the way I miss you, wanting to be outof uniform, out of breath, in your car, in love again, learningall the signals for the first time, they way we learned the rulesof night baseball as high-school freshman: first base, you kissher, second base, her breasts, third, you're in her pants, and home is where the heart wants to be all the time, but seldomcan reach past the obstacle course of space, the home in ourperfect future we wanted so badly, and want more than ever sincewe learned we won't live there, which happens to lovers in civilizedcountries all the time, and happens too in American baseball whenyou strike out and remember what the game really meant.”

“We all know of people who thought they could to it (whatever “it” is) tomorrow. We have all procrastinated on such a way, and often to our personal regret. It happens time and again, putting off things that we convince ourselves might be better, more meaningful, more appropriate for another time. So often that better time either never comes or really isn’t better or more appropriate after all. And then, sadly, the window of opportunity -to do something great- closes.”

“Nobody wants to admit to this, but bad things will keep on happening. Maybe that's beause it's all a chain, and a long time ago someone did the first bad thing, and that led someone else to do another bad thing, and so on.You know, like that game where you whisper a sentence into someone's ear, and that person whispers it to someone else, and it all comes out wrong in the end. But then again, maybe bad things happen because it's the only way we can keep remembering what good is supposed to look like.”

“One must learn to love.— This is what happens to us in music: first one has to learn to hear a figure and melody at all, to detect and distinguish it, to isolate it and delimit it as a separate life; then it requires some exertion and good will to tolerate it in spite of its strangeness, to be patient with its appearance and expression, and kindhearted about its oddity:—finally there comes a moment when we are used to it, when we wait for it, when we sense that we should miss it if it were missing: and now it continues to compel and enchant us relentlessly until we have become its humble and enraptured lovers who desire nothing better from the world than it and only it.— But that is what happens to us not only in music: that is how we have learned to love all things that we now love. In the end we are always rewarded for our good will, our patience, fairmindedness, and gentleness with what is strange; gradually, it sheds its veil and turns out to be a new and indescribable beauty:—that is its thanks for our hospitality. Even those who love themselves will have learned it in this way: for there is no other way. Love, too, has to be learned.”

“Even if we choose to sever the ties to all we ever knew as home, to redefine the spaces we live in, the emotions that seem most natural to us, the ways we have of loving, there is a haunting feeling of loss and admiration for the people we knew first and best. Even if we never speak to them again, they are our first and purest loves. There is, for all of us, a time in which they meant the world. Sometimes, that time lasts as long as we live. It is eternal as breath. It is changeless and deathless. Sometimes, it ends at a very early age. Sometimes, we cannot help ourselves. Things happen. (203)”

“When you come [to a baseball game] in person, you direct your own focus, you know? The TV or the radio men, they might focus on the pitcher when you want to see what first base is doing; and you don't have any choice but to accept it.”

“Who exactly are we?' I asked.The American Dreamers. There aren't too many of us left.' I don't know if I qualify.' You an American? Or want to be an American?'I am an American.' You said you were having a dream.' It's true, I did.'Was it the one where you're inside the girl and you are pumping her and pumping her and you are so happy but then it turns out it's not a girl, it's really one of those super poisonous box jellyfish, and it stings you and you are screaming and screaming and the sky rains the diarrhea of babies?'The...no, I don't think so.' I get that sometimes. Anyway, see you around.”