You don’t learn about yourself by being alone, you learn about yourself from other people.

The truth doesn't always make a good story, does it?

It was so much easier to be angry. Being angry made him feel strong, even though-- and this contradiction did nothing to diminish his anger-- he was angry only because his position was so weak.

I guess I was raised in a household with a lot of reverence for the physical sanctity of books. You didn't destroy books.

The real problem with being around James was that he was always the hero. And what did that make you? Either the sidekick or the villain.

Maybe this was one of those times when being a hero didn’t involve looking particularly brave. It was just doing what you should.

As a teenager in Brooklyn Quentin had often imagined himself engaged in martial heroics, but after this he knew, as a cold immutable fact, that he would do anything necessary, sacrificing whatever or whomever he had to, to avoid risking exposure to physical violence. Shame never came into it. He embraced his new identity as a coward. He would run in the other direction. He would lie down and cry and put his arms over his head or play dead. It didn't matter what he had to do, he would do it and be glad.