When I reached the street I didn't know whether to go right or left. Soon I'd have to start acting like a person who cared about what happened to him.
. . . things whose perishing had been arrested by their power to make her love them.
With a certain frustration I knew I spoke too soon, too urgently. I wanted to get out of the way the things I knew to say, wanted to say, the things I'd been thinking, all in the hope of moving into the unforeseen.
