There was no one color that could paint Lena Duchannes. She was a red sweater and a blue sky, a gray wind and a silver sparrow, a black curl escaping from behind her ear.

There is a point. I don't know what it is, but everything I've had, and everything I've lost, and everything I felt—it meant something.

These are the kinds of things a guy thinks about when he visits his own grave.

It's hard to imagine a place like that really exists. People have been judging me my whole life.

I'm just the librarian. I can only give you the books. I can't give you the answers.

A little-known fact about me: I read all the time.

A kiss that was every bit as big and every bit as small as a kiss can be.