“I suppose it’s easier to see the way out of anything when you’ve found your way out of that maze. When you’re stuck in the middle, in a series of dead-ends making circles, it’s difficult to make any sense of anything.”

“It’s not that I want to join in. It’s just . . . I want to want to, if that makes any sense. My time with Toby taught me to look both ways before attempting anything new. Until now, when even the suggestion of joining in makes me resist.”

“I have found that the only consolation is never regretting anything that you do. Never look back, always look forward and continue moving along with a confidence that everything you’re doing and everything you’ve done is the way it’s supposed to be.”

“But when you’re a kid it’s like you’re wearing these binoculars strapped to your eyes and you can’t see anything except what’s in the dead center of the lenses”

“It’s funny—when people call you “shy,” they usually smile. Like it’s cute, some funny little habit you’ll grow out of when you’re older, like the gaps in your grin when your baby teeth fall out. If they knew how it felt—really being shy, not just unsure at first—they wouldn’t smile. Not if they knew how the feeling knots up your stomach or makes your palms sweat or robs you of the ability to say anything that makes sense. It’s not cute at all.”

“It’s easier to kill people, when you’re dead yourself,” she told him. “I mean, it’s not such a big deal. You’re not so prejudiced any more.”