A year ago he had been in America. Two years ago he had been straight. Tonight he was underground, with the remains of the bogey man, lit by the torches of the children who had killed him.

— Caleb Crain

But what are they?” Annie asked.“An omphalos, probably,” said Jacob.”A what, dear?” Melinda asked.“A bellybutton of the world.”“I didn’t know it had one.

— Caleb Crain

By its nature a relationship was not an accomplishment. It was just a connection that happened to exist, for as long as it did exist.

— Caleb Crain

Crisis – the midwife of capitalism. The ‘advisers’ arrive and say, My god, they have no predatory class here. It is an emergency! We must create one immediately. Let us arrange to give everything to a few crooks. Then this country, too, will have a mess of parasites to rule it, to suck the value of the people’s labor.

— Caleb Crain

He was in the flow of time now. He was in a story.

— Caleb Crain

– I’m going to be a writer, he reminded Milo.– And you won’t need literature?– I’ll write my own.

— Caleb Crain

In Rome the statues, in Paris the paintings, and in Prague the buildings suggest that pleasure can be an education.

— Caleb Crain

I suppose it does come with a certain responsibility.”“What does?” asked Annie.“The magnificence of my person.”“Gas.

— Caleb Crain

It is perhaps necessary for something dear to be lost.”“Why?”“Perhaps it is necessary to the making of a story. A story after all is a way of remembering love.

— Caleb Crain

It’s a question of wanting to know how the story turns out. And one can only know that about one story, ever.

— Caleb Crain