A big sister who cries over being human over you. A gravelly voiced kid who's friends left him over you. And a pink-haired girl who keeps your picture in her wallet.

The best way to measure how much you've grown isn't by inches or the number of laps you can now run around the track or even your grade point average - though those things are important, to be sure. It's what you've done with your time, how you've chosen to spend your days, and whom you have touched this year. That, to me, is the greatest measure of success.

Here’s what I think: the only reason I’m not ordinary is that no one else sees me that way.

You can't blend in when you were born to stand out.

We carry with us, as human beings, not just the capacity to be kind, but the very choice of kindness.

I think there should be a rule that everyone in the world should get a standing ovation at least once in their lives.

It's so weird how that can be, how you could have a night that's the worst in your life, but to everybody else it's just an ordinary night. Like on my calendar at home, I would mark this as being one of the most horrific days of my life. This and the day Daisy died. But for the rest of the world, this was just an ordinary day. Or may be it was even a good day. May be somebody won the lottery today.