'What do you mean?' she smiled. 'Well, love isn't a good sailor and it languishes on a sea voyage. You'll be surprised when you have the Atlantic between you and Larry to find how slight the pang is that before you sailed seemed intolerable.' 'Do you speak from experience?' 'From the experience of a stormy past. When I suffered from the pangs of unrequited love I immediately got on an ocean liner.'
And the voice: yes, that’s right, it’s hard to admit. I mean, it’s hard to have to admit it to you, but that’s the honest-to-god truth. Ethic lets us down? The sense of duty lets us down? Honesty lets us down? Curiosity lets us down? Love lets us down? Bravery lets us down? Art lets us down? That’s right, said the voice, everything lets us down, everything. Or lets you down, which isn’t the same thing but for our purposes it might as well be, except calm, calm is the one that never lets us down, though that’s no gurantee of anything.
you’re destroying me. you’re good for me. how could i know this city was tailor-made for love? how could i know you fit my body like a glove? i like you. how unlikely. i like you. how slow all of a sudden. how sweet. you cannot know. you’re destroying me. you’re good for me. i have time. please, devour me. deform me to the point of ugliness. why not you? why not you in this city and in this night so like other cities and other nights you can hardly tell the difference? i beg of you.