“Turn around, and the people you thought you knew might change. Your little boy might now live half a world away. Your beautiful daughter might be sneaking out at night. Your ex-husband might by dying by degrees. This is the reason that dancers learn, early on, how to spot while doing pirouettes: we all want to be able to find the place where we started.”

“Regret hung from the hem of everyone's lives, a rip cord reminder that what you want is not always what you get. Look at himself, outliving Aimee. Or Az, trying to find his daughter, only to have her wind up dead. Look at Shelby, with a child who was dying by degrees. Ethan, born into a body nobody deserves. At some point or another, everyone was failed by this world. Disappointment was the one thin humans had in common.Taken this way, Ross didn't feel quite so alone. Trapped in your whirlpool of what might have been, you might no be able to drag yourself out - but you could be saved by someone else who reached in.”

“Families were never what you wanted them to be. We all wanted what we couldn't have: the perfect child, the doting husband, the mother who wouldn't let go. We live in our grown-up dollhouses completely unaware that, at any moment, a hand might come in and change around everything we'd become accustomed to.”

“Someone who was happywould have little need to hope for change. But, conversely, an optimistic person was that waybecause he wanted to believe in something better than his reality.He started wondering if there were exceptions to the rule: if happy people might be hopeful, if theunhappy might have given up any anticipation that things might get better.”

“So don't judge me, unless you've fallen asleep on a couch with your ill child, thinking this night might be her last.Ask instead: would you do it?Would you give up your vengeance against someone you hate if it meant saving someone you love?Would you want your dreams to come true if it meant granting your enemy's dying wish?”

“The first question she was asked was What do you do? as if that were enough to define you. Nobody ever asked you who you really were, because that changed. You might be a judge or a mother or a dreamer. You might be a loner or a visionary or a pessimist. You might be the victim, and you might be the bully. You could be the parent, and also the child. You might wond one day and heal the next.”

“If I tell you another seven hundred times, maybe one of these days you might turn your clothes right side out when you put them in the hamper, eh?”