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This is the stupid math of loving another human being.

Years ago I wanted parallel lives, to see how it turns out for all of me.

Through the dark, we say, through the dark: but do we ever really know?

What do you offer someone who has lost half of her beginning?

Let’s rummage through each other’s bodies like a blowout sale.

I am veins and breath, the entrance the world passes through.

Who are we? Without one another, who will we be?

There’s nowhere he can kiss where she hasn’t been kissed by the sun.

How large our muscles have to be to lift our wings even a single time.

I’ve taken the pledge and made donations of blood to the world.

“What’s the shittiest thing you’ve ever done to someone?” she said.

I’m from Boston, is that why I imagine Fredrick’s emotions for him?

At Walden Pond, Henry Thoreau clicks like on the “Wilderness” page.

If you can be seen, you can be killed. No-man’s-land is everyman’s land.

Let’s put a frog in his bed and have him feel it jump all over him.

Like lions in cages, women like me dream . . . of freedom . . .

Youth! Goodness! Joy! Hope! Strange things to bring to a place like this.

i silenced with my hands the loud wet thing that would not let me sleep

I turned—a peculiar triumph—as ruin succumbed to the ruin it birthed.

Tobias Wolff reading two stories aloud: "Say Yes" and "Her Dog."

…a classmate dropped dead, his heart was attacked at thirty-three.

I walked that land with him, one and mingling, breaking into breath.

We cannot leave it to the forces to rub out the color of the world.

Why is the sun such a bad companion to the desert traveler?

She already knew that deafening silence of a call gone unanswered.

It was only a matter of time before the damp of loss grew within us like moss.

The body passing through its own fires, the hard escape of it all.

A ripple across the darker fathom, no sooner there than torn away.

You try to confess your crime of turning the world into words.

He told me that he knows a parent’s grief for a dead child.