“It's fine," I repeated. And whatever. It was fine. It had to be.”

“The fundamental mistake I had always made - and that she had, in fairness, always led me to make - was this: Margo was not a miracle. She was not an adventure. She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl.”

“You can't just make me different, and then leave. Because I was fine before, Alaska. I was just fine with me and last words and school friends, and you can't just make me different and then die.”

“You can't just make me different, and the leave. Because I was fine before.”

“Waking up was horrible, because for a disoriented moment I felt like everything was fine, and then it crushed me anew.”

“Margo was not a miracle. She was not an adventure. She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl.”

“We just sat there quiet for a long time, which was fine, and I was thinking about way back in the very beginning in the Literal Heart of Jesus...”