I just finished Colson Whitehead's "The Underground Railroad," which I think is a work of genius.

If I hadn't learned my lesson, I would have wished we could stay there forever. But I knew better now. We'd seen what we'd come to see. The way to trick death. Breathe in. Breathe out. Watch as it all rises upwards, black and blue into the even bluer sky.

A boy who is trouble is something entirely different as a man.

I wonder how a lioness will manage in a dovecote. Can you put away your teeth and claws?

Young people believe that regret is something you will never feel if you simply do as you please, but sometimes it is a matter of degree.

You have to choose the voice you are going to trust. You can't listen to everyone.

Are people drawn to each other because of the stories they carry inside? At the library I couldn’t help but notice which patrons checked out the same books. They appeared to have nothing in common, but who could tell what a person was truly made of? The unknown, the riddle, the deepest truth. I noticed them all: the ones who’d lost their way, the ones who’d lived their lives in ashes, the ones who had to prove themselves, the ones who, like me, had lost the ability to feel.