My mom was there, in some form, in some sense, in some universe. My mom was still my mom, even if she only lived in books and door locks and the smell of fried tomatoes and old paper. She lived.

I get it," said Link. "Even if it wrecks everything, even if you know you're gonna get busted, sometimes you gotta do it anyway." "Something like that.

...you cannot punish a wet child for the rain.

Darkness, real darkness, was more than just a lack of light.

The stuffs you're good at and the stuffs you're bad at are just different parts of the same thing. Same goes for people you love and the people you don't. And the people who love you and the people who don't. The only thing that mattered was that you cared about a few people.

The poems are all wrong. It's a bang, a really big bang. Not a whimper. And sometimes gold can stay.

There are no coincidences.