| Quote #7
Everything was piled on the floor of my room, a poignant pyramid of brassieres and dancing slippers and pretty things I packed in Holly's only suitcase. There was a mass left over that I had to put in paper grocery bags (18.3).
It just seems kind of fitting that Holly's belongings have to be stuffed in disposable luggage. Even her bags are transient, impermanent.
| Quote #8
She hummed to herself, swigged brandy, she leaned constantly forward to peer out the windows, as if she were hunting an address – or, I decided, taking a last impression of a scene she wanted to remember. It was neither of these (18.11).
The narrator wants to believe that Holly wishes to solidify her memories before leaving for Brazil, but this is his desire, not hers. Fixed memories would signify something too permanent for Holly, and this just isn't who she is.
| Quote #9
The owner of the brownstone sold her abandoned possessions, the white-satin bed, the tapestry, her precious Gothic chair (19.1).
Holly leaves so most of her (already few) belongings behind when she escapes to South America. She's unencumbered by possessions, and even the things that would suggest a degree of permanence in her life get sold. Her consistent lack of furniture, and of "things" in general, symbolize the transience of her life.