“I should have added,' he continues, clearing his throat, 'that nothing the Prophet says makes any sense.”

“My secret still sits, burning, in the bottom of my belly – that I love him. That I will always love him. And everything I want from him is now impossible: A normal life. A normal relationship. Wrapping my arms around him whenever I want to. Not having to worry at any moment he will evaporate.”

“Pyscho,' Flynt says, pounding a fist hard into his chair. 'Ouch”

“Dearest Penelope,I am a giant jerk. I don't mean to imply that I am abnormally sized human who happens to also be a jerk, but, instead, that I am a normal-sized human who happens to sometimes be an extra-large jerk. When you buy me an ugly holiday sweater next Christmas, it needn't be an extra-large man's sweater, but it should probably feature some much-despised...figure that will serve to indicate to the world the immense degree of my jerkiness. What I'm really saying is...I've thought more about it, and I'd like to be of help to you in your quest so that come Christmas you can just find me a basic ugly holiday sweater that has no other object but to be a basic ugly holiday sweater, and I can wear it the next time we beat God and the devil alike at trash can bowling.Yours,Flynt”

“So, if you were to divide your school in to subsections of the animal kingdom, or, let's just say into primates...”

“I laughed under my breath, and it sounded bitter. “Listen to me. What am I talking about, worth it? Is any experience or bit of beauty worth the cost of my life? I know nothing but safety and self-preservation at all costs.”“And yet,” he said softly, “you’re risking everything to help me.”

“It’s not a real place, not a real thing. Mom made up the Gray Space, the place of anti-art, antifeeling, the cold dark place that felt like death. It was just her zany way of describing the place she went when she felt most depressed, when making music at all became impossible.It isn’t real.”