Quotes from Monica Drake

What I feel in that kitchen is the way humans are so flawed and so perfect, and I want to share bodies. You know your old dog? That's how I feel—I want to climb on people, breathe their breath, lick the inside of stranger's mouths. I don't know these two, but who do we ever know, really, past the skin? How do we get there?

Where we grew up, we didn't learn how to live. We learned how to bury the land, seal life off. There was an unacknowledged backdrop to being a kid on land that was fast turning into strip malls, when you loved trees and a silent corporate presence kept showing up to knock the trees down. It was the helpless sense that everything you ever loved could be destroyed, without debate.

We're mourning and celebrating at the same time, so drink.

The day Travis met Lu he was in his best suit—dark blue, pinstripes, a necktie. Women his age would see right through his sweat and pretense. Any woman his age, she'd say, "What, you work at Men's Warehouse now?" Yeah, a woman would know a cheap suit was like an easy costume, but the girls didn't catch on.

Playing Frisbee gave Sean permission to look at Lu, across a short distance. He didn't have to feel stupid for staring.

This was my language. The house was talking to me. It was telling me about my own mistakes: they don't go away. The trash goes out, but it seeps back in tiny increments, like the backflow of blood, the rush that causes a heart murmur.

My head was so light. Wind sang through the field grass. The same wind brushed hair off my face, soft as my mother's hand, and when the falling snow started to clump into flakes, each thick flake came down with the love of a frozen kiss, like somebody was saving up, freezing their warm love for later.

I watched the moon through the window. It was a beautiful, floating illusion of a still point in the universe. Dark shadows passed over the plains, mountains and water.

You will be my favorite ex," I whispered in his ear. "I'll be your fifth former wife. We'll mutter crazy dreams together then apart, but you will always be with me." His breath was warm and so very human, not demonic at all. He said, "Don't break my nose." I said, "I won't even break your heart.

Buying kids booze was against the law but hell, it wasn't the worst thing he'd done. After that, it turned into a thing—they'd see him and wave, and they knew his name and let him be one of theirs, one of them. They cut a small place in the world for him to belong.

The Buddhists say if you meet somebody and your heart pounds, your hands shake, your knees go weak, that's not the one. When you meet your soul mate you'll feel calm. No anxiety, no agitation. I say, the Buddhists don't have a clue.

Shadows fell across us, a flicker in dim light. Somebody passed at the mouth of the alley. He said, "We could both be killed." I whispered, "Sure. In grade school, a boy choked on Jell-O, it's that common." I laughed, drunk on our future. Death seemed a small risk. "We can have the world.

And she thought, Who the hell are you, Mister? But his eyes were blue and his hair was thick, and his arms were strong and sinewy. He had a Nevada tan, desert tan, wherever he'd been living, wherever he sometimes went. He was gorgeous, that hothead. She put an orange segment in her mouth, held it out toward his mouth, leaned in, rolled on top of him, her body over his, and he bit into the orange, gulped it even, made his mouth ready for more, for her, like he'd been starving.