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For six months I did what women do: I waited. This is what women are taught to be good at. It's said that a woman's life is merely preparation for the primal nine-month wait. Whatever the reason, they do it well. Sometimes they drink or bite their fingernails down to the wrist. They count stars and initials and wait: for something to happen, for something to pass, to change, to begin, to end.

There is no fiercer enemy than a word. A word that can be written down in pages and punctuated by quotation marks and commas and spelled out in contracts and poems and sighs, in old whispers and song lyrics, in promises and vows.

Once I knew nothing about McKay and now I knew everything about him. This seemed as good as any reason for not walking out the door. There are so many ways to stop the knowing, and I tried them all. I tried silence, I tried heroin, I tried calling it love. And then I stopped trying to call my dumbness any one of ten thousand names.

You should never trust a liar so you should never trust a man of honor. Those two are the worst of mankind.

Shut up and do not think. All the theorists agree: shut up and keep the words from being said. And all of the scars will remain invisible; and all of the scars will remain under the skin. Where they belong.

Because the truth is McKay was in love with his vision of the Orphans, with his vision of himself. And I was in love with them both. That’s all.

Look, I was in love. What more can I say? Oh, I was a fool. Is that it? If that’s what you want me to say I can’t say it.

Sometimes you know whether or not it’s your night. Sometimes you don’t. I wasn’t sure.

Sometimes you know when doors will open; you have only to walk up to them and wait.

There are so many ways to stop the knowing, and I tried them all. I tried silence, I tried heroin, I tried calling it love. And then I stopped trying to call my dumbness any one of ten thousand names.

You want me to lie to you?" said McKay. I shrugged. Why not? I didn't mind lies.