“I . . . you mean me?""Quite naturally, when I said, 'What about you, yourself,' I meantyou.”

“What was it? Why won't you tell me?""I don't want to break down your illusions.""My dear man, I have no illusions about you.""I mean illusions about yourself.”

“What’s that?” he asked. “A picture of my mom,” I said, opening his ice-cold hand and putting the frame in it gently. “But Apron,” Chad said. “I can’t see.” “I know. But it’s not for now. It’s for when you get there, so you can find her.” Chad tapped his finger on my mom’s cheek. “Does she look like you?” I thought about it hard enough for Chad to take in another long breath. “A little bit,” I said. “Not quite as pretty?” “Well,” I said. “You’ll have to see for yourself.” Chad raised his eyebrows. “I’ll find her, Apron. I promise. If you promise me something, too.” I nodded, but then remembered he couldn’t see me. “What?” “Don’t stay sad. Remember our poem. What it means. Promise?”

“I quit because I was good, and when you’re good and a girl at something, you should be suspicious.’‘Of what?’‘Of what part of yourself you didn’t know you were selling.”

“The opportunity of a lifetime is to pick yourself. Quit waiting to get picked; quit waiting for someone to give you permission; quit waiting for someone to say you are officially qualified and pick yourself. It doesn’t mean you have to be an entrepreneur or a freelancer, but it does mean you stand up and say, ‘I have something to say. I know how to do something. I’m doing it. If you want me to do it with you, raise your hand.”

“When I meet a woman who attracts me, I prefer women,' she said. 'And when I meet a man who attracts me, I prefer men.''You mean you haven't made up your mind yet.''I mean exactly what I said. I told you you wouldn't like it. Most people who ask want me definitely on one side or the other.”