He never spoke of that night again, not to your mother, not to anyone else. He was ashamed for her, for Mickey, for himself. In the hospital, he stopped speaking altogether. Silence was his escape, but silence is rarely a refuge. His thoughts still haunted him.' ~pg 139

There is a time for hello and a time for good-bye. It's why the act of burying thing seems natural, but the act of digging them up does not.

Fear is how you lose your life...a little bit at a time...What we give to fear, we take away from...faith.

Man alone measures time. Man alone chimes the hour. And, because of this, man alone suffers a paralysing fear that no other creature endures. A fear of time running out.

People say they 'find' love, as if it were an object hidden by a rock. But love takes many forms, and it is never the same for any man and woman. What people find then is a certain love. And [he] found a certain love with [her], a grateful love, a deep but quiet love, one that he knew, above all else, was irreplaceable.

You can't substitute material things for love or for gentleness or for tenderness or for a sense of comradeship

Please, please, please, please, please...,", squeezing his eyes shut because it somehow made the words more pure.