There is not always a good guy. Nor is there always a bad one. Most people are somewhere in between.

A book cannot apologize for what people may think it should be. It has to be authoritative.

Flakes of white fall thru the trees and onto the road, catching on our clothes and hair. It's a silent fall and it's weird how it makes everything else seem quiet, too, like it's trying to tell you a secret, a terrible, terrible secret.

And too much informayshun can drive a man mad. Too much informayshun becomes just Noise. And it never, never stops.

Hope may be the thing that pulls you forward, may be the thing that keeps you going, but that it's dangerous, that it's painful and risky, that it's making a dare in the world and when has the world ever let us win a dare?

Real life is only ever just real life. Messy. What it means depends on how you look at it. The only thing you’ve got to do is find a way to live there.

Conor was no longer invisible. They all saw him now. But he was further away than ever.