Nice,′ I say, realizing only afterward that I’ve mimicked her, a bad habit of mine; I’m like one of those animals that imitates its predators to survive.

Even now, remembering the sound of his voice chastens every word I say.

When he takes off his shirt, I see that his shoulders are narrow and his chest almost hairless and almost concave. For a second I’m disappointed but right away I think, Grow up; this is the chest of a husband.

I hate weddings,′ she says. ‘They make me feel so unmarried. Actually, even brushing my teeth makes me feel unmarried.

There are things that two people say in the middle of the night That don’t make sense to a third at breakfast.

Before college, I hadn’t voluntarily read anything that might be called literature; I didn’t think I’d understand it; I never seemed to understand my English teacher’s interpretations of what we read.

I never expected anyone in my family to change, and especially not my father, who changed first and most profoundly: He died.

You see yourself through his eyes, as The Generic Woman, the skirted symbol of the ladies room door.

I saw my life in scale: it was just my life. It was not momentous, and only now did I recognize that it had once seemed so to me; that was while my father was watching.

Oliver Biddle was who you became if you couldn’t find anyone to love except your parents.