Life’s all about the revolution, isn’t it? The one inside, I mean. You can’t change history. You can’t change the world. All you can ever change is yourself.

Why is it that weeks and months and years go by so quickly, all in a blur, but moments last forever?

Who knew that listening to a guy sleep could be so much deeper than sleeping with a guy.

Voice is not just the sound that comes from your throat, but the feelings that come from your words.

My father had put these things on the table. I looked at him standing by the sink. He was washing his hands, splashing water on his face. My mamma left us. My brother, too. And now my feckless, reckless uncle had as well. My pa stayed, though. My pa always stayed. I looked at him. And saw the sweat stains on his shirt. And his big, scarred hands. And his dirty, weary face. I remembered how, lying in my bed a few nights before, I had looked forward to showing him my uncle's money. To telling him I was leaving. And I was so ashamed.

Cripes Miss Wilcox, they're not guns,' I said. No, they're not Mattie, they're books. And a hundred times more dangerous.

Namaste. It was a Nepalese greeting. It meant: The light within me bows to the light within you.