“We began our hospital visits: one day Susan, one day me, everyday The Big Hoom. On one of these visits, she told me about the tap that opened at my birth and the lack drip filling her up, and it tore a hole in my heart. If this was what she could manage with a single sentence, what did thirsty years of marriage do to The Big Hoom?”

“One day I told him about the boys of the neighborhood, about their mocking.He said, "That's because they don't understand.""They should understand, I said. I didn't want to cry, but I was crying."If your mother had diabetes, what would they say?""I don't know.""This is like diabetes. She's not well. That's all."Was that what he told himself? That she was not well? That she might get better? I don't know.”

“If there was one thing I feared as I was growing up . . . No, that's stupid. I feared hundreds of things: the dark, the death of my father, the possibility that I might rejoice the death of my mother, sums involving vernier calipers, groups of schoolboys with nothing much to do, death by drowning. But of all these, I feared the most the possibility that I might go mad too.”

“A well-told lie can heal. Otherwise, what's fiction?”

“My mother helped me to get past that. She was always there for me, until she dies. I remember she told me once, about big hearts and small hearts, and that not everyone could be blessed with a big one that had room to care for a lot of people. She promised me that mine was big, and that I was the lucky one for it.”

“As we meandered, she said my name three times:"Stargirl?""Yes?""That was better than TV.""It was.""Stargirl?""Yes?""Does the sun do that everyday?""Yes.""Stargirl?""Yes?""Everyday is sun day.”

“Of course we did other things too. We walked. We talked. We rode bikes.Though I had my driver's license, I bought a cheap secondhand bicycle soI could ride with her. Sometimes she led the way, sometimes I did. Wheneverwe could, we rode side by side.She was bendable light: she shone around every corner of my day.She taught me to revel. She taught me to wonder. She taught me to laugh.My sense of humor had always measured up to everyone else's; but timidintroverted me, I showed it sparingly: I was a smiler. In her presence Ithrew back my head and laughed out loud for the first time in my life”