We believe what we want to, what we need to. The corollary is that we choose not to see what we'd rather pretend doesn't exist.

Then Henry speaks again. "Did he do it?" I turn to him slowly. "Does it matter?

The right idea is the one you can't stop thinking about; the one that's in your head first thing in the morning.

Shooting stars are not stars at all. They re just rocks that enter the atmosphere and catch fire under friction. What we wish on when we see one is only a trail of debris.

I can give or take elephants; I never can find the cheetah-but the zebras captivate me. They'd be one of the few things that would fit if we were lucky enough to live in a world that's black or white.

Since I was five, I've known that I was adopted, which is a politically correct term for being clueless about one's own origins.

If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?