C'mon Pudge. I'm teasing. You have to be tough. I didn't know how bad it was-- and I'm sorry, and they'll regret it-- but you have to be tough.

"You are fairly smart," I said after a while. "You are fairly good at compliments," he answered.

You see how fake it all is. It's not even hard enough to be made out of plastic. It's a paper town.

For the longest time, it felt kind of like my chest was cracking open, but not precisely in an unpleasant way.

Scared isn't a good excuse. Scared is the excuse everyone has always used.

You could hold me and I could hold you. And it would be so peaceful. Completely peaceful. Like the feeling of sleep, but awake in it together.

I hate the rich snots here with a fervent passion I usually reserve only for dental work and my father.