Being a parent wasn't just about bearing a child. It was about bearing witness to its life.

How could he convey to someone who'd never even met her the way she always smelled like rain, or how his stomach knotted up every time he saw her shake loose her hair from its braid? How could he describe how it felt when she finished his sentences, turnec the mug they were sharing so that her mouth landed where his had been? How did he explain the way they could be in a locker room, or underwater, or in the piney woods of Maine, bus as long as Em was with him, he was at home?

The only way someone can leave you is if you let them.

Believe me, Being gay is not a choice. Noone would choose to make life harder than it has to be.

No child really chooses his religion; it is just the luck of the draw which blanket of beliefs you are wrapped in.

How far can a person go... and still live with himself.

It was one thing to sacrifice your own life for someone else's. It was another thing entirely to bring into the mix a third party - a third party who knew you, who trusted you implicitly.