“Everything in the world's got a voice; most people don't hear hard enough is all. Sunrise sounds like slow chords dripping from my guitar this morning. Sad chords, in B-flat.”

“I looked up from that other place and saw Dave staring through the glass. I thought: That guy is a little gratitude, world peace, a new acoustic guitar, a bass guitar and hands that play like Flea, and the single "Break Your Heart" all at once. He smiled and waved. I'm sick of staring at what I want, I thought. I'd do anything to hold it in my hands.”

“I look up after the last chord and smile. I tell Antony Barellan to shove it up his arse, and I see Dad clapping his hands off. I give him a little wave to show him that it's okay to be happy. I give him a little smile to show him what it looks like.”

“She points at two big steps on the back of her bike. "You have training... somethings? What are they?""Feet platforms. My dad made them for my cousin to use. Step on.""But I don't have a cool helmet with a lightning bolt.""Your head is hard enough.""Funny." I steady myself without touching her."To the train yard," she says and pushes on the pedals. We don't move."Anytime," I tell her. 'You know. While we're still young and beautiful."She pushes hard again. "You weight a ton.""You need me to drive?""I need momentum, that's all. Get off.""You're very charming, but you must hear that all the time.""Get off," she says. "I'll ride, and you run after me and jump on the bike.""Do many guys ask you out twice?""Only the ones with balls.”

“They can't see me but I can see them. I don't stand because I've been standing all morning. Plus, this is my small protest against Luke and Rose. I can't serve you if I don't exist. Get lost in that existential dilemma.”

“We watch her walk into the spotlight she’s been been hiding from most of her life. Sure, friendship is all about believing in someone so hard they believe it, too. Sure, it’s about trust. But if anyone hurts her tonight, it’s about ripping them apart with my bare hands and really enjoying it.”

“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.”