Sublime

When he started conversations with people in elevators, or lavishly complimented strangers, she held her breath, certain that they could see what an attention-loving person he was.

to have money, it seemed, was to be consumed by money.

There was something immodest about her modesty: it announced itself.

hungry for choice and certainty.

How much did one know of the true feelings of those who did not have a voice?

The stories we tell leave the reader with a memory not so much of the stories themselves, but of how we look at the world.

We were in his house, arguing, both of us bristling with half-baked knowledge from the books we had read.