“Her words were like tinfoil; they shone and they covered things up.”

“My computer set-up is crazy. I have wireless set up on my iMac, aimed at a router, which itself is perfectly angled at another router, which in turn is angled at a sofa covered in tinfoil to bounce the signal to the original source. If you want to sit on that couch, you’d better be wearing a reflective astronaut suit, or at least a spaghetti strainer on your head. It reminds me of something Zelda told me: “The only thing tinfoil should cover is a Kiss. But you wouldn’t know anything about kissing.”

“It was sadness, lostness, and the worst thing about it was the way it seemed like a default—like it was there all the time, and all her other expressions were just an array of masks she used to cover it up.”

“There were no stars, or if they were they shone like volcanic glass.”

“...because if there was one thing he didn't like it was big words, they just lied and covered things up, those big words, they didn't let what really was live and breathe but just carried it off into something that wanted to be big, that's what he thought...”

“She was fascinated with words. To her, words were things of beauty, each like a magical powder or potion that could be combined with other words to create powerful spells.”