The marks humans leave are too often scars. You build a hideous minimall or start a coup or try to become a rock star and you'll think "they'll remember me now," but (a) they don't remember you, and (b) all you leave behind are more scars. Your coup becomes a dictatorship. Your minimall becomes a lesion.

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.

Why is it upset? Shouldn't it be downset?

But I believe in true love, you know? I don't believe that everybody gets to keep their eyes or not get sick or whatever, but everybody should have true love, and it should last at least as long as your life does.

And then I screwed up and the Colonel screwed up and Takumi screwed up and she slipped through our fingers.

You know, like when you look in the mirror and the thing you see is not the thing as it really is.

The book was turned to the page with Anne Frank's name, but what got me about it was the fact that right beneath her name there were four Aron Franks. FOUR. Four Aron Franks without museums, without historical markers, without anyone to mourn them. I silently resolved to remember and pray for the four Aron Franks as long as I was around.