There was a sergeant at a desk. I knew he was a sergeant because I recognized the marks on his uniform, and I knew it was a desk because it's always a desk. There's always someone at a desk, except when it's a table that functions as a desk. You sit behind a desk, and everyone knows you're supposed to be there, and that you're doing something that involves your brain. It's an odd, special kind of importance. I think everyone should get a desk; you can sit behind it when you feel like you don't matter.
You’ll be angry, but I’m going to ask anyway. Will you marry me?' The unsupported voice, the one that happened when he couldn’t breathe, but had to speak.I nudged his hands apart to see his face, and found it faintly overcast by tension. 'No,' I said gently,He blinked again and asked, his voice unaltered, 'May I ask you once a year, every seventh of December, in case the answer changes?''Yes. I don’t think it will.''Oh. I only ask because I hate the thought of not having breakfast with you for the rest of my life.''My dear,' I said. 'Jamie. That’s a different question.''Oh. Will you have breakfast with me for the rest of my life?''Probably.
A novel, in which all is created by the author's whim, must strike a more profound level of truth, or it is worthless.""And yet, I have heard you say that any novel that relieves your ennui for an hour has proved its usefulness.""You have a good memory. It must have been ten thousands of years ago that I uttered those words.""And if it was?""In another ten thousand, perhaps I will agree with them again.""In my opinion, the proper way to judge a novel is this: Does it give one an accurate reflection of the moods and characteristics of a particular group of people in a particular place at a particular time? If so, it has value. Otherwise, it has none.""You do not find this rather narrow?""Madam—""Well?""I was quoting you.
And all of the late, late-night talks, when you're not stoned, but you're so tired you might as well be, when you just sit there glowing with warmth, and all of those things that you really hope for come out, and you connect with each other on such deep levels that, when you think about it the next day, you wonder if it was real - if the others felt it too.