Life’s a freaking mess… there’s not one truth ever, just a bunch of stories, all going on at once, in our heads, in our hearts, all getting in the way of each other. It’s all a beautiful calamitous mess.

Grief is forever. It doesn't go away; it becomes part of you, step for step, breath for breath.

For the first time in our lives, I’m somewhere she can’t find, and I don’t have the map to give her that leads to me.

Life's a freaking mess. In fact, I'm going to tell Sarah we need to start a new philosophical movement: messessentialism instead of existentialism: For those who revel in the essential mess that is life. Because Gram's right, there's not one truth ever, just a bunch of stories, all going on at once, in our heads, in our hearts, all getting in the way of each other. It's all a beautiful calamitous mess. It's like the day Mr. James took us into the woods and cried triumphantly, "That's it! That's it!" to the dizzying cacophony of soloing instruments trying to make music together. That is it.

Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.

That's exactly it—I am crazy sad, and somewhere deep inside, all I want is to fly.

The Color Of Extraordinary.