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

I didn’t need you, you idiot. I picked you. And then you picked me back.

You can’t know, sweetie, because you’ve never had a baby become a brilliant young reader with a side interest in horrible television shows, but the joy you bring us is so much greater than the sadness we feel about your illness.

I can't remember, because I never knew.

That's what I realized: if I did get her back somehow, she wouldn't fill the hole that losing her created.

Last words are always harder to remember when no one knows that someone's about to die.

I didn't know whether to trust Alaska, and I'd certainly had enough of her unpredictability - cold one day, sweet the next; irresistibly flirty one moment, resistibly obnoxious the next. I preferred the Colonel: At least when he was cranky, he had a reason.