“I gasp, because isn't that just exactly what I've been doing too: writing poems and scattering them to the winds with the same hope as Gram that someone, someday, somewhere might understand who I am, who my sister was, and what happened to us.”

“When I'm with him,there is someone with mein my house of grief,someone who knowsits architecture as I do,who can walk with me,from room to sorrowful room,making the whole rambling structureof wind and emptinessnot quite as scary, as lonelyas it was before.”

“... if you're someone who knows the worst thing can happen at any time, aren't you also someone who knows the best thing can happen at any time too?”

“That's exactly it—I am crazy sad, and somewhere deep inside, all I want is to fly.”

“I can't believe Gram just said sex appeal.”

“Gram made me go to the doctorto see if there was something wrongwith my heart.After a bunch of tests, the doctor said:Lennie, you lucked out.I wanted to punch him in the face,but instead I started to cryin a drowning kind of way.I couldn't believe I had a lucky heartwhen what I wanted was the same kind of heartas Bailey.I didn't hear Gram come in,or come up behind me,just felt her arms slip around my shaking frame,then the press of both her hands hardagainst my chest, holding it all in,holding me together.Thank God she whispered,before the doctor or I could utter a word.How could she possibly have known that I'd gotten good news?”

“But then I think about my sister and what a shell-less turtle she was and how she wanted me to be one too. C'mon, Lennie, she used to say to me at least ten times a day. C'mon Len. And that makes me feel better, like it's her life rather than her death that is now teaching me how to be, who to be.”