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“At times she had thought that this was the only kind of connection you could have with people—intense, inexplicable and ultimately incomplete.”
― Mary Gaitskill, Bad Behavior

“I kept thinking about the uneven quality of time--the way it was almost always so empty, and then with no warning came a few days that felt so dense and alive and real that it seemed indisputable that that was what life was, that its real nature had finally been revealed. But then time passed and unthinkably grew dead again, and it turned out that that fullness had been an aberration and might never come back.”
― Elif Batuman, The Idiot

“In the dawn, armed with a burning patience, we shall enter the splendid cities.”
― Arthur Rimbaud, A Season in Hell

“Something’s died in me,” she goes. “It took a long time for it to do it, but it’s dead. You’ve killed something, just like you’d took an axe to it. Everything is dirt now.”
― Raymond Carver, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love