“You can't be real," Delilah murmurs. "Says who?" I ask. "Did you really think that a story exists only when you're reading it?”

“Nobody who says as little as he does is as simple as you'd think. It takes a lot to not say a lot, because when you're not talking, you're thinking, and he thinks a lot. My mum and dad talked all the time. Talkers don't think much; their words drown out any possibility of hearing their subconscious asking, Why did you say that? What do you really think?”

“It's naive to think that anyone is just one person, that there's a real you. What is real? You can only exist in one moment, and then that moment is gone. And there's a new moment, a new you. And you can't even say you're the sum of all your parts, because you can never be all your parts at once.”

“It thought about the magic that happens when you tell a story right, and everybody who hears it not only loves the story, but they love you a little bit, too, for telling it so well. Like I love Ms. Washington, in spite of myself, the first time I heard her. When you hear somebody read a story well, you can't help but think there's some good inside them, even if you don't know them.”

“Whenever I'm asked what advice I have for young writers, I always say that the first thing is to read, and to read a lot. The second thing is to write. And the third thing, which I think is absolutely vital, is to tell stories and listen closely to the stories you're being told.”

“Now," those Plumbago lips say, "You are going to tell me your story like you just did. Write it all down. Tell that story over and over. Tell me your sad-assed story all night." That Brandy queen points a long bony finger at me."When you understand, " Brandy says, "that what you're telling is just a story. It isn't happening anymore. When you realize the story you're telling is just words, when you can crumble it up and throw your past in the trashcan," Brandy says,"then we'll figure out who you're going to be.”