You're from where?" "Lay'en. It's near Salt Lake City." "Spell that for me." "Um, that would be S-A-L-T-" "No, the other one. The city you're from." "Oh. L-A-Y-T-O-N." "Ah-Lay-ton." That's what I said." "No you didn't. You just said, 'Lay'en.'" "So I did. But just go ahead and pronounce 'aluminum' for me, Mr. British Man. How are you going to defend that piece of insanity? Why don't you spell it and count syllables and see if your al-um-in-ium makes sense whatsoever?" He bowed his head. "Touch...

She answered by standing and kissing him first and held his cheeks and closed her eyes and felt sure as bones and deep as blood that she had found her place.

If we're mad, we're mad in large numbers, at least larger than yours.

You are my butterfly and refuse to set you free.

Really, becoming a writer sounds more like a mental illness than a professional choice.

I was under the stars, like a fish is under water.

My ma says a rock lasts forever, but people don’t, and that’s what makes them more precious.