“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.”

“While I did that, my own eyes got wet, not fakely, and I blinked the wetness away because it was not my privilege to be sad. Leonard Brodsky was the one who was hurt, and I was the one who’d hurt him, and it didn’t matter that I hadn’t wanted to hurt him or that I didn’t know how I’d hurt him. It didn’t matter that I knew not what I did to him. It didn’t need a name to be wrong. It didn’t need reasons I could understand. Verbosity is like the iniquity of idolatry.”

“I want you to know ..... 'I know this day is the most special day of my life."i smiled at him,imagining him smiling back at me. "Because this is the day we met.”

“I didn’t say a word. I just stared at him. I figured I didn’t owe him an answer, and I was too proud to even talk. I didn’t want to tell him a damn thing about me.”

“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.”

“didn’t want to hurt you and I didn’t want to wreck my life and I did both and I’m sorry I was ever born, and will you please sit down here and let me hold you for a minute, because I don’t think I can make it without you”