“It would fill me with a feeling, a feeling I later tried to duplicate with alcohol and finally found again with Clare, a feeling of unity, oblivion, mindlessness in the best sense of the word.”

Henry describes a preserved butterfly his mom had purchased for him when he was a child. The feeling he gets from the butterfly is akin to a sense of quiet, a state of mind that will prove elusive for Henry as he grows up. Niffenegger uses repetition, repeating the word “feeling” three times. This creates lyricism and a poetic feeling, reflecting Henry’s sense of unity and peace.

“I stayed there for a while, trying to feel sleepy, and then I stood up and everything changed.”

Henry alludes to the first time he time traveled after the night at the museum. Young Henry gets out of bed and takes his first trip through time. The sense of everything changing is not just Henry’s time traveling, but everything that comes with it—anxiety, his relationship with his mother, who doesn’t believe him, and his sense of stability within the universe.

“Mom laughed and said that time travel sounded fun, and she wanted to try it, too.”

After Henry returns from his time travels, he tells his mom. Her response is the first of the many similar responses, making him reluctant to tell anyone the truth. Time traveling, in addition to putting Henry in physical danger, isolates him emotionally.