Un libro leído a medias es una aventura amorosa incompleta.

A half-read book is a half-finished love affair.

We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love.

Photos’re better than nothing, but things’re better than photos ’cause the things themselves were part of what was there.

Orito banishes all thoughts of Jacob de Zoet, and recalls Jacob de Zoet.

This, explained the angel, is hell. The people do not love each other. They only want to feed themselves.

Perfume counters in department stores, Holly Deblin smells of, the middle of July, and cinnamon Tic Tacs.

Neither of us had anything to say, or rather we had everything to say, but after all those nights of not saying a word, we suddenly found we had not one dollar of time left between us.

I’d always worried but kissing’s not so tricky. Your lips know what to do, just like sea anenomes know what to do. Kissing spins you, like Flying Tea-Cups. Oxygen the girl breathes out, you breathe in.