“Ours was a common and unsung friendship, that between women living in New York, single and alone, and the doormen who take care of them, acting as gatekeepers, bodyguards, confidants and father figures.”

“I tossed out one last question: ‘Have you ever been in love?’ No one, he said, had ever asked him that in an interview. ‘Yes,’ he finally answered. ‘But I didn’t realize it until it was too late.’ Then he asked me to turn off my recorder. I hit Stop."

“My personal life was another story. In love there’s no hiding: You have to let someone know who you are, but I didn’t have a clue who I was from one moment to the next.”

“There was no guarantee that doing an open adoption would get us a baby any faster… in fact, our agency warned us that, as a gay male couple, we might be in for a long wait.”

“Old love is different. In our 70s and 80s, we had been through enough of life’s ups and downs to know who we were, and we had learned to compromise. The finish line was drawing closer.”

"Driving, with the top down, I’m reminded that I too can shift gears, face risk, handle inconvenience — and survive tragedy. My partner, eyes misting, says: 'You love that car. And your husband was an extraordinary man.'"

"We met on a train. A perfect, flirtatious, six hours. The beginning of our love story? Trusting in the power of the universe, we hadn’t exchanged mobile numbers. Sometimes, a romantic plan isn’t enough."