I suddenly feel left out of a future that isn't even going to happen.

There once was a girl who found herself dead. She peered over the ledge of heaven and saw that back on earth her sister missed her too much, was way too sad, so she crossed some paths that would not have crossed, took some moments in her hand shook them up and spilled them like dice over the living world. It worked. The boy with the guitar collided with her sister. "There you go, Len," she whispered. "The rest is up to you.

This is the secret I kept from you, Bails, from myself too: I think I liked that Mom was gone, that she could be anybody, anywhere, doing anything. I liked that she was our invention, a woman living on the last page of the story with only what we imagined spread out before her. I liked that she was ours, alone.

People die, I think, but your relationship with them doesn't. It continues and is ever-changing.

Sometimes you think you know things, know things very deeply, only to realize you don't know a damn thing.

You have to see the miracles for there to be miracles.

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