...But there's always suffering, Pudge. Homework or malaria or having a boyfriend who lives far away when there's a good-looking boy lying next to you. Suffering is universal. It's the one thing Buddhists, Christians, and Muslims are all worried about.

At least I carpe'd that one diem.

She's cute, I thought, but you don't need to like a girl who treats you like you're ten: You've already got a mom.

I don't know how I look, but I know how I feel: Young. Goofy. Infinite.

Colin thought about the dork mantra: sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. What a dirty lie.

And I vaguely remember her smiling at me from the door way the glittering ambiguity of a girls smile, which seems to promise an answer to the question, but never gives it. The question, the one we’ve all been asking since girls stopped being gross, the question that is to simple to be uncomplicated: Does she like me or does she LIKE me?

The miracle and hope of human consciousness is that we can still conceive of boundlessness.