“Let the morrow bring on what it would, he thought, for it didn't exist. Only now could lay any claim to forever...”

“To die, he thought, was to escape passion's grasp, but that was the last thing he wanted. Instead he wished to be seized by passion and pinioned, held in its palm forever—he could not imagine any other existence as embracing any real happiness.”

“To bear and not to own; to act and not lay claim; to do the work and let it go: for just letting it go is what makes it stay.”

“I could lay here and stare at him forever. I don’t want to let go. Ever.”

“If I had a talent I could claim, it would be as a finder of trouble. Which is undoubtedly what I'd find by sticking my nose where it had no right to be. But would I let a thought of trouble stop me? Not a snowflake's chance in hell.”

“In a dog's world, only three states existed: "now," "in a while," and "forever." If someone left, he was gone "forever," and when he returned they rejoiced as much as if he were back from the dead precisely because he'd been gone "forever.”