“His voice was handsome and broken, like a cobblestone street.”

“You can see the most beautiful things from the observation deck of the Empire State Building. I read somewhere that people on the street are supposed to look like ants, but that's not true. They look like little people. And the cars look like little cars. And even the buildings look little. It's like New York is a miniature replica of New York, which is nice, because you can see what it's really like, instead of how it feels when you're in the middle of it.”

“It stayed with him, like a part of him, like a birthmark, like a limb, it was on him, in him, him, his hymn: I had to do it for myself.”

“I zipped myself all the way into the sleeping bag of myself, not because I was hurt, and not because I had broken something, but because they were cracking up.”

“I know you look both ways before you cross the street, but I want you to look both ways a second time, because I told you to.”

“The more you love someone, he came to think, the harder it is to tell them. It surprised him that strangers didn't stop each other on the street to say I love you.”

“I ripped the pages out of the book.I reversed the order, so the last one was first, and the first was last.When I flipped through them, it looked like the man was floating up through the sky.And if I'd had more pictures, he would've flown through a window, back into the building, and the smoke would've poured into the hole that the plane was about to come out of.Dad would've left his messages backward, until the machine was empty, and the plane would've flown backward away from him, all the way to Boston.He would've taken the elevator to the street and pressed the button for the top floor.He would've walked backward to the subway, and the subway would've gone backward through the tunnel, back to our stop.Dad would've gone backward through the turnstile, then swiped his Metrocard backward, then walked home backward as he read the New York Times from right to left.He would've spit coffee into his mug, unbrushed his teeth, and put hair on his face with a razor.He would've gotten back into bed, the alarm would've rung backward, he would've dreamt backward.Then he would've gotten up again at the end of the night before the worst day.He would've walked backward to my room, whistling 'I Am the Walrus' backward.He would've gotten into bed with me.We would've looked at the stars on my ceiling, which would've pulled back their light from our eyes.I'd have said 'Nothing' backward.He'd have said 'Yeah, buddy?' backward.I'd have said 'Dad?' backward, which would have sounded the same as 'Dad' forward.He would have told me the story of the Sixth Borough, from the voice in the can at the endto the beginning, from 'I love you' to 'Once upon a time.'We would have been safe.”