"These individuals plant themselves. They make themselves comfortable. And then slowly they infect all that exists around them. You have to be constantly aware of who you surround yourself with. You have to be constantly on guard. You will meet false teachers."

"I wanna breathe you in. I’d like it if you were all in my lungs. I’d like to feel my chest burn. I’d like for you to burn me. I wanna breathe you in like my Mama’s exhaust."

"I look out my window every morning. I wait for the airplanes. They always come. I wave to them, every one I see. I pretend they’re you. I know they’re not."

"Kevin’s parents are so sweet. They're from Chattanooga. In Tennessee. They live by a mountain. Well, you can see it. From the windows. But they were born in the Midwest, and you can kind of tell. Kindest souls. I mean, you must be! To have done what they did. What they’ve done. What they did for Kevin. For their son. Bringing over a little baby from Korea. That’s the doing of a kind soul! Little Baby Kevin From Korea. But they’re old now. I mean, they were well into their 40s when they adopted him. So. And they’re not poor. I mean, their house is fine. My mother thinks it’s dirty. She’s always like 'It’s dirty. It smells. It’s dusty. It’s musty.' It’s not! It’s just a little run down. If anything. Not so stylish. My mother is very Southern Living. She’s got the Southern Living app on her iPad. She’s addicted to Pinterest. I bet Sheila’s never even opened a Southern Living. Sheila. That’s Kevin’s mom. She’s the kindest, most fragile soul. And I’ve gotten used to the home she keeps. The home my husband comes from. The home she and George keep together. George. That’s Kevin’s father. He had an accident when he was- just right about when he was about to turn 50, when Kevin was 4- and he’s in a wheelchair now. Poor Kevin. Poor George. Poor Sheila. Really, poor Sheila. Beyond all else."

"One day Nolita will be gone. One day we’ll wake up. We’ll pass Houston on foot, south-bound. What we’ll find will be something entirely different. In every way new. Something that we love will have disappeared. It won’t be sad though. We’ll really just miss that little park— between Prince and Spring, Mott and Elizabeth. The one with all the statues. Those of us that remember it."

"My father left Paris in 1983. He took a brief sabbatical to a town in Thailand. He was in a bar and met a painter. Russian man who did portraits. Stav. Stav was enamored with my father, ya know. They became friendly. My father sprawled out in his claw foot tub, arms dangling, head back and loose, like a goddess from some other planet. Stav who did portraits called it Mile-Deep Bathtub."

"Yeah, he hugged me and when he did he grabbed my waist, tight with his hands. His fingers rubbed my bones, but then he dug his fingers into me, in a way that kinda hurt, into the, space between my waist and my groin. I did feel my body sort of melt, in that moment. Bend. Maybe that's kind of feminine, maybe I am, maybe that's being gay, or how I'm gonna be. I don't really know."

"He never came to swim and I fell asleep sprawled out in a pool chair. SPF 70, three pages into a book I won’t complete. I’ve been told many times to stay away from spray-on sunscreen, but it’s worked out quite well for me thus far. My skin is tinted red, appealingly so."

"I do wish I could find a VHS tape with more time on it- more whatever’s in there- so I could have Baby start it up at 6:30 so I could see Vanna White, and I used to think Pat Sajack had the most enviable job in the world- I still do I guess but Vanna does so little talking- maybe she’s got it better and that’s something I could do, turning letters- well, tapping them now- but I’m not attractive."