Upon the whole, therefore, she found what had been sometimes found before, that an event to which she had looked forward with impatient desire, did not, in taking place, bring all the satisfaction she had promised herself.

Sometimes we just walk into something that is not for us at all. We pretend it is. We think we can shrug it off like a coat, but it's not a coat at all, it's more like another skin. [...] All I wanted was to make my life thrilling for a while: to take the oridinary objects of my days and make a different argument out of them, no obligations to my past.

You're not supposed to look perfect while you're making babies. Making babies is the perfection. It's about feeling good in clothes and knowing you can get dressed up in the evening, work it for a minute, and maybe get back in a certain pair of jeans. But there's just no such thing as perfection.

Life forms illogical patterns. It is haphazard and full of beauties which I try to catch as they fly by, for who knows whether any of them will ever return?

It is the stories we don't get, the ones we miss, pass over, fail to recognize, don't pick up on, that will send us to hell.

It was up to him to pay back to the world in beauty and caring what Leslie had loaned him in vision and strength.