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.

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

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.

How could a mother who boils water for pasta leave two little girls behind?

The sky is everywhere, it begins at your feet.

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

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