But it was sure a privilege to love him, huh?" I nodded into his shirt. "Gives you an idea how I feel about you," he said. My old man. He always knew just what to say.
As long as we don't die, this is gonna be one hell of a story.
...whatever you're worried about, you're bigger than the worries.
Beware of that monster called 'self-loathing'.
They love their hair because they're not smart enough to love something more interesting.
That was the worst part about having cancer, sometimes: The physical evidence of disease separates you from other people.