“My heart flutters whenever I hear his keyTurning int he door, and I think to myself,Oh goody, the party is about to begin.”

“Yes, and for the record, he thinks you’re insane, too. (Otto)Oh, goodie. But I guess that’s only fair since I think he’s psychotic. (Susan)”

“Whenever I'm out-of-doors and find myself wanting to have a first-rate think, I fling myself down on my back, throw my arms and legs out so that I look like an asterisk, and gaze at the sky. ”

“Do you think I'll ever be better at this?" I wondered, mostly to myself. "That my heart might someday stop trying to jump out of my chest whenever you touch me?""I really hope not," he said, a bit smug.”

“I lie down on my bed, my back to the window, and the tears finally arrive, running down my face, into my ears, onto my pillow. I lie there for a long time, for hours maybe, and right as I'm about to finally drift to sleep I think I hear the flutter of Christian's wings as he flies away.”

“I hear everything he's ever painted in his voice. I hear that person on the beach, looking at the waves. I hear hearts rocked by earthquakes and disappointed seas. I make myself look at him because he needs to be looked at. He needs to be seen. I hate that he's been on his own so long, painting graffiti moons and bricked-in birds and keeping quiet about who he really is.”