“By fall, they can read. It happened by osmosis, the way it ought to: after they have spent several months on Daddy's lap, following his spoken words with their eyes and pretending to read, their comes a day when they no longer have to pretend.”

“Words that come from the heart are never spoken, they get caught in the throat and can only be read in ones's eyes.”

“Few people actually read. Instead, everyone likes pretending they read. If we spent as much time reading as we say we do, we'd be grossly overweight and depressed.”

“Several months later, and I have finally read one of the three (books), even though I wanted to read all three of them immediately. What happened in between? Other books, is what happened. Other books, other moods, other obligations, other appetites, other reading journeys.”

“I'd spent the past six months trying not to think about all that had happened last fall. To have it all read out to me in Dad's emotionless voice...well,let's just say I was beginning to wish I'd stayed in the pond.”

“How many days was I like that? Pretending to listen, but not hearing a word? Pretending to care when I hated it all? Pretending to live when I was dying inside?”