Dan Lopez > Quotes

“It doesn’t matter how much you build, how many volumes you mass together, or how much ornamentation you throw onto a façade. There is always a crisp line separating something from nothing. That’s all we’re doing, in the end, defining the void.”
― Dan Lopez, Part the Hawser, Limn the Sea

“The ship’s lines were an elegant array of pure geometry, essentially nothing more than a series of cubes suspended within a curved plane.”
― Dan Lopez, Part the Hawser, Limn the Sea

“Though everyone had been uniformly gracious with me throughout our visit, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being vetted in some way and that I’d already come up short. Peter was the one they wanted; I was merely the collateral—the boyfriend, the grad-school widow. I was accustomed to monopolizing Peter’s affection, but for the first time in our relationship, I felt like I’d arrived at a meeting only to find all the seats at the table filled.”
― Dan Lopez, Part the Hawser, Limn the Sea

“The past and the present existed simultaneously aboard a ship.”
― Dan Lopez, Part the Hawser, Limn the Sea

“He could be boastful in a way pleasantly at odds with his native fatalism, and his youthful stubbornness had a way of ameliorating into a sort of wounded dignity, which was centered in the darting passes of his deep-set, dark eyes.”
― Dan Lopez, Part the Hawser, Limn the Sea

“But the limp tent sputtering to life transfixes Thaddeus. It morphs and undulates like a lava flow. Forms rise in the fabric only to collapse as the gas reaches toward equilibrium. "It's just the wind," Cheryl says, but he ignores her. His home is turmoil. Right now poison pours over Cheryl's clothes and into Stevie's old room. Next will be the garage, or would that have been first? Ultimately, the order matters little to him. Gas will eventually coil around everything like a cat settling down for a nap: his law books in the attic, the photograph in the family room of Stevie leaning over the rail at Niagara Falls pretending to slip, the Hawaiian leis from a family vacation he can't quite remember, entire drawers full of odd knickknacks and fading memorabilia that attest to a life well lived, tangible proof of memories made even if the memories themselves rise more sluggishly and infrequently than they used to—all of it, ultimately, choking on gas. But how many of the termites?”
― Dan Lopez, The Show House