It was their mothers, long ago. Tibby noted with joy that all four of them were wearing jeans.

The weather turned. Her skin seemed to grow a million extra pores, and all of them opened to take in the warmth and tenderness of the air. The sun on her face made her want to cry. Into all those millions of open pores came the sunshine, and other feelings as well. In and out. She was porous.

I want to go where you're going. I'm not scared of dying. I want to stay together and come back together. You said that souls cohere. I want to stay with you.

There are two kinds of people in this world. The kind who divide the world into two kinds of people and those who don't.

He just wanted to look at her and know her life was marching along under the same arch of time and space as he is.

Tibby sat on the outside of a group of kids in the film program. There was a lot of dark clothing and heavy footwear, and quite a few piercings glinting in sunlight. They had invited her to sit with them while they all finished up their lunches before film seminar. Tibby knew that they had invited her largely because she had a ring in her nose. This bugged her almost as much as when people excluded her because she had a ring in her nose.

When I turned fifteen, I remember my father gave me a credit card which I was allowed to use for two things: emergencies and books.