“That's what Cal would tell you about me. "Jason's the nice one," he'd say. "He'd give you all his stars.”

“We should make up our own phrase," I suggested. "Add our own contribution to nautical lore."Cal thought about it for a while and then said, "How about, the starboard sea?""What?" I asked. "Like the sea on the right side of the boat? That doesn't mean anything.""No," Cal insisted, "it means the right sea, the true sea, or like finding the best path in life. It's deep. I'm telling you, it's going to catch on. By this time next year, everyone will be using it.”

“Jason, as much as I'd like to believe that we're friends, I know I can't count on you.”

“In the weeks between my father's visit and Cal's death, I hurt my friend in ways that frightened me.”

“I'd like to be a light meter.""A what?""A light meter. Like a photographer uses. Tinks had one this morning." Aidan snapped an imaginary photo of me. "I'd like to be able to measure and know for certain whether people were giving off light or taking light away.""You're strange," I said. "But I think I like that about you.”

“...up until that point, I'd thought that whatever existed between Cal and me was separate and distinct from the rest of the world. It hadn't occurred to me that a stranger could sense and recognize something so private.”

“Cal and I had both predicted that Brizzey would marry young, divorce, then elope with some European slob with a fake title. She was doomed to run around Greenwich, forcing everyone to call her "the Duchess.”