“For everything in my life, I would ask, Why? Why didn't the Chinese lady have teeth? Probably it was because she didn't brush them enough. I asked myself why we had to move to Georgia. It was because my father needed to work at this hatchery so he could support us better. Why did I kind of like that boy? Because he was kind of cute. And why was Lynnie sick? Why? There was no answer to that.”

“I know a cute thing to say to a kid when they ask why it's raining. I say to them it's raining because god is crying. And if they ask why god is crying, a cute thing to say is, god is crying probably because of something you did.”

“Why not?" he asked."It's complicated," she replied."Why?"After a pause she hesitatingly answered, "Because I hate you less now than I did before.”

“Why poetry, you ask? Because of life, I answer.”

“Lying in bed, half-covered by the blankets, I would drowsily ask why he had come to my door that night long ago. It had become a ritual for us, as it does for all lovers: where, when, why? remember...I understand even old people rehearse their private religion of how they first loved, most guarded of secrets. And he would answer, sleep blurring his words, "Because I had to." The question and the answer were always the same. Why? Because I had to.”

“Why did he have to be everything I did and everything I didn't need at any given moment?”