“I met a man named Birthday. I didn’t tell him when I was born, because I thought that that one day in my life, a day I don’t even remember, might define his own identity, and I didn’t want to make him cry.”

“Ah, the good ol’ days. I remember those days. That was before your time. It was before my time too, because I didn’t have a watch, and I hadn’t been born yet.”

“When I didn’t know him I punched him in the face. The best part about him is his nose.”

“The event happened on my birthday. I don’t remember the date, I only know it was my birthday because there was no cake or presents.”

“I don’t worry about identity theft, because I don’t even know who I am as a person. So if I’m not even in possession of my own identity, how can it be stolen from me?”

“I really relate to you,” I said to my dad. “I can tell we’re in the same boat, because I’m rowing.” When I found out I was going to be a father, I wanted to meet a man I’d never met—my dad, who also just found out he was a father when I introduced myself. I never got to tell him I loved him before he died, but from the way I gently but forcefully held his head underwater, I think he could tell.”

“We were in love. When I say we, I don’t mean her and I. I mean me and my clone were in love with her. But she didn’t even know I existed, just as I didn’t know my clone existed. I still don’t know he exists.”