“Maybe the truth is I really want to like you instead.”

“Yeah. You treat him like a son or a soldier, instead of like a brother. He wants you to like him and admire him and love him. Maybe in that order.”

“It’s just, sometimes lies look so much like the truth. And when you can’t tell between the two, how do you know which one will make you happy? Maybe the lie will make you happier. And if you’re happier with the lie, would you really want to know the truth?”

“For some reason I didn't believe it. I don't know why. Maybe it was because my father was the kind of person who told himself things over and over until he believed them, who could justify almost anything. What I wanted was for it to really be okay. I wanted him to really not care, to maybe even be happy about it. Instead he was acting like I was making a bad career choice, like I was passing up an English degree at Fairmont in favor of a bartending certificate at the local community college.”

“I really like it when a bad dream doesn't scare you...it inspires you instead'.”

“Maybe it was wrong, or maybe impossible, but I wanted the truth to be one thing. One solid thing.”