Don't give up on me now. I'm sorry. I guess that's an odd thing to say. Because isn't that what I'm doing? Giving up?

But I do know which is the least popular. The truth.

I didn't feel physically sick. But mentally. My mind was twisting in so many ways. (...) We once saw a documentary on migraines. One of the men interviewed used to fall on his knees and bang his head against the floor, over and over during attacks. This diverted the pain from deep inside his brain, where he couldn't reach it, to a pain outside that he had control over.

The main thing I wanted to say, and thankfully it’s what most people say they get out of the book, is simply an acknowledgement that we do affect each other in ways we can’t predict.

Because when you're posed, you know someone's watching. You put on your very best smile. You let your sweetest personality shine.

As a writer, my only responsibility is to tell a compelling story.

And after I dropped him off, I took the longest possible route home... I explored alleys and hidden roads I never knew existed. I discovered neighborhoods entirely new to me. And finally... I discovered I was sick of this town and everything in it.