“It's more impressive," I said out loud. "From a distance, I mean. You can't see the wear on things, you know? You can't see the rust or the weeds or the paint cracking. You see the place as someone once imagined it.”

“I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center.”

“I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center.”

“I try to believe," she said, "that God doesn't give you more than one little piece of the story at once. You know, the story of your life. Otherwise your heart would crack wider than you could handle. He only cracks it enough so you can still walk, like someone wearing a cast. But you've still got a crack running up your side, big enough for a sapling to grow out of. Only no one sees it. Nobody sees it. Everybody thinks you're one whole piece, and so they treat you maybe not so gentle as they could see that crack.”

“Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center. [...] Big, undreamed-of things--the people on the edge see them first.”

“Almost, I thought. Out loud I said, "Just because we don't see eye to eye on everything doesn't mean we can't be close.Auden”