For reasons he couldn’t understand a sadness came over him and it was then he saw the girl standing on the other side of the dirt road, her eyes pools of absolute sorrow, her light brown hair glowing in the splinters of sunlight that forced their way through the trees.

I'm not interested in those who do me wrong. There's not enough time in the day for them.

It's hard to explain what happens when jazz and punk fuse with a violin twist but it works. Probably because Anson Choi takes off his shirt while he's playing the saxophone. Whoever's not chatting up a Cadet or a girl from Darling House or playing chess with the guys is watching the band. I turn into a groupie.

We're so different. You're an intellectual. I'm an idiot." "Don't say that," I yelled. "You're not an idiot, you stupid idiot.

Just ask how I'm feeling, I want to say. Just ask and I may tell you. But no one does.

Maybe she'd always been there. Maybe strangers enter your heart first and then you spent the rest of your life searching for them.

I recognise Santangelo's dad, who saves police brutality for when he gets to his son.