“What are we but our stories?”

“Then I went to bed and cried into my pillow. I wasn't sad, not at all. It was just so beautiful to have an intense feeling and the right words at the same time.What are we but our stories?”

“Just because life is hard, and always ends in a bad way, doesn't mean that all stories have to, even if that's what they tell us in school and in the New York Times Review. In fact, it's a good thing that stories are as different as we are, one from another.”

“They're afraid of change, and we must change. They're afraid of the young, and we are the young. They're afraid of music, and music is our life. They're afraid of books, and knowledge, and ideas. They're most afraid of our magic.”

“I don't care if we have our house, or a cliff ledge, or a cardboard box. Home is wherever we all are, together,”

“Did I want a dog? No. Did I need a dog? Also no. We were six kids running for our lives, not knowing where our next meal was coming from. Could we afford to feed a dog? Wait for it—no.”

“Margo, they're afraid of us. They're afraid of everything.' And then I kept on talking without really thinking, until it turned into a chant:They're afraid of change, and we must change.They're afraid of the young, and we are the young.They're afraid of music, and music is our life.They're afraid of books, and knowledge, and ideas.They're most afraid of our magic.”