“... 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?”

“What do you do when the worst thing that can happen actually happens?”

“What kind of world is this? And what do you do about it? What do you do when the worst thing that can happen actually happens?”

“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.”

“Who wants to know we are just one carefree breath away from the end? Who wants to know that the person you love and need the most can just vanish forever?”

“Each time someone dies, a library burns.”