Reading it the night before, I'd wondered if it would be like that for me-if in one moment, I would finally understand her, know her, and understand the role I'd played in her dying. But I wasn't convinced enlightenment struck like lightining.

Right, except I'm not going to lie to my mom, because what kind of (man) lies to his own mother?

Do you ever wonder whether people would like you more or less if they could see inside you?

Love is tied to truth.

As long as we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story.

You can't dingleberry that! That's a flagrant misuse of the dingleberry!

Anything that happens all at once is just as likely to unhappen all at once, you know?