I always imagined music trapped inside my clarinet, not trapped inside of me. But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?

... if you're someone who knows the worst thing can happen at any time, aren't you also someone who knows the best thing can happen at any time too?

I've no use for talking, would just as soon store paper clips in my mouth.

We were all heading for each other on a collision course, no matter what. Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.

The guy's life drunk, I think, makes Candide look like a sourpuss. Does he even know that death exists?

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.

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.