“Dusty was the whiplash who connected Camille’s pieces. Camille was Dusty’s little hole through which events streamed” (9)
“I think of chunks of my past as pieces of brain chemistry. It accounts for how alien they feel , while still being tender. They have moved entirely out of language into something else—the folds and fissures of this thing I carry around. Luggage between the ears. This story is coming from brain tissue, and that makes it alien and intimate, even to me…writing doesn’t feel like an act of the imagination. It’s more like the sedimentary traces of that act, a kind of cleaning up after the fact” (11)
“My love was so selfish and perfect that I could handle anything. Dusty’s grief streamed into it…she got thinner. I remained serene” (21)
"We looked at each other and the air seemed to twist up" (61)
“I nodded, too disappointed to speak. It felt weirdly like being abandoned by the past” (82)
“Around Ethel I turned into a sloppy version of nice, which was obviously fake, and in any case, Ethel didn’t appreciate sloppy. I assumed the guise of stupidity, which was protective, even if inaccurate. Dumbness can be sweeter…the stupidity was feigned, but my cluelessness was deep and pure” (136)
“Lately I’ve been thinking that I am a wave, and all the stories in the world are the water…personally, this means I can’t fall apart without changing into something else, other stories, different ones. This finds a solution in dissolution. Somehow it relaxes me” (150)
“Anything in life, is life. Anything at all. Gradually I absorbed this uncanny fact” (200)
“But sex without fantasy— is nothing. When I read Max’s porn, I like to think of that particular nothing and what falls into it. That reminds me of my life” (230)