“This body is breaking down, but I am not.”

“I'm writing this down, because it is going to be hard for me to say it. Because this is probably our last time just us. See, I can write that down, but I don't think I can say it. I'm not doing this to say goodbye, though I know that has to be part of it. I'm doing it to thank you for all we have had and done and been for one another, to say I love you for making this life of mine what it is. Leaving you is the hardest thing I have to do. But the thing is, the best parts of me are in you, all three of you. You are who I am, and what I cherish in myself stays on in you.”

“Someday when you're twenty, maybe, I'll see you again. You'll be this hot soccer star at some great school, with a million guys more interesting than I am chasing you down. And you know what? I'll see you and I'll pray you want me still.”

“I knew her hair and her coloring and her shapes would be different next time, but the way she wore her body would keep on.”

“I know you are always finding ways to love me in spite of how horrible I am, I hope I haven't run out of chances.”

“The summers before that are a blur of baby oil and Sun-In and hating our bodies (I got big breasts; Tibby got no breasts) at the Rockwood public swimming pool.”

“I tell myself your spirits were down the day you wrote. You're fine and we're fine. I hope it's true.”