“Poor Almafae hadn't been quite right since the time she'd stuck her head in a gnat ball at the age of two.”

“Her father was about to have a heart attack, and my memories of her are now tinged with a blue wash of misfortune that hadn't quite befallen her at the time. She was standing bare-legged in the jungly weeds that grew up between our houses. Her skin was already beginning to react to the grass cuttings stuck to the ball, whose sogginess was suddenly explained by the overweight Labrador who now limped into view.”

“It had been three weeks, four days and twelve hours since I'd seen her. Since she'd torn my heart out. If I had been drinking, I'd blame it on the alcohol. It had to be an illusion, a desperate one. But I hadn't been drinking. Not a drop. There was no mistaking Blaire. It was her. She was actually here. Blaire was back in Rosemary. She was at my house.”

“Ava,"Since shewas right, Daddy Shane has been calling her ourwalking, talking Magic 8 Ball, although we’re notallowed to shake her when we want answers.”

“Gotta have a head like a wrecking ball, a spirit like one of them punching clown dummies that always weeble-wobbles back up to standing. This takes time. Stories need to find the right home, the right audience. Stick with it. Quitting is for sad pandas.”

“When was the last time she'd actually had a relationship based on reality, instead of some completely invented fantasy she'd written in her head? In her stupid, silly, romantic head.”