It took a lot of work to be perfect. If you didn’t want to break a sweat, there was no point in even bothering.

I waited. Because with Eli, he was never trying to get you to finish for him. He always knew where he was going, even if it took a little while to get there.

I used to worry I was entirely uninteresting, but the truth is I think if my life was more exciting I'd never have any time to write.

He was looking at me, jsut as I'd thought he would be, but like Bert's, his light was not what I expected. No pity, no sadness: nothing had changed. I realized all the times I'd felt people stare at me, their faces had been pictures, abstracts. None of them were mirrors, able to reflect back the expression I thought one I wore, the feelings only I felt.

When I pictured myself, it was always like just an outline in a colouring book, with the inside not yet completed.

Yeah. I mean, acknowledging is easy. Something happened or it didn't. But understanding... that's where things get sticky.

Only a real asshole takes liberties with someone else's car stereo. That's serious.