And on the last day, the bad days become so difficult to recall, because one way or another, she had made a life here, just as I had. The town was paper, but the memories were not. All the things I’d done here, all the love and pity and compassion and violence and spite, kept welling up inside me.

But I could always tell in her eyes if she got really pissed at me, and her eyes were still pretty smiley

But we can't know better until knowing better is useless.

The joy you bring us is so much greater than the sadness we feel about your illness.

Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you.

Waffles are just awesome bread.

Sometimes you lose a battle. But mischief always wins the war