But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?

But then I think about my sister and what a shell-less turtle she was and how she wanted me to be one too. C'mon, Lennie, she used to say to me at least ten times a day. C'mon Len. And that makes me feel better, like it's her life rather than her death that is now teaching me how to be, who to be.

It's such a colossal effort not to be haunted by what's lost, but to be enchanted by what was.

This is what I want: I want to grab my brother’s hand and run back through time, losing years like coats falling from our shoulders.

Dreams change, yes, that makes sense, but I didn't know dreams could hide inside a person.

According to all the experts, it's time for me to talk about what I'm going through... I can't. I'd need a new alphabet, one made of falling, of tectonic plates shifting, of the deep devouring dark.

It's as if someone vacuumed up the horizon while we were looking the other way.