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"Her body had been in a war and, as in love, it had used every part of itself."

"If he could walk across the room and touch her he would be sane. But between them lay a treacherous and complex journey."

"He would be pregnant with her."

"He refused to believe in his own weaknesses, and with her he had not found a weakness to fit himself against. Neither of them was willing to reveal such a possibility to the other."

"Don’t we forgive everything of a lover? We forgive selfishness, desire, guile. As long as we are the motive for it."

"If you are in a room with a problem don’t talk to it."

"The wild poem is a substitute
For the woman one loves or ought to love,
One wild rhapsody a fake for another."

"I know a comrade. The way a lover will always recognize the camouflage of other lovers."

"The paranoia and claustrophobia of hidden love.

“I think you have become inhuman,” she said to me.
“I’m not the only betrayer.”
“I don’t think you care—that this has happened among us. You slide past everything with your fear and hate of ownership,
of owning, of being owned, of being named. You think this is a virtue. I think you are inhuman. If I leave you, who will you go
to? Would you find another lover?”
I said nothing.
“Deny it, damn you.”"