“I rolled my eyes. "He's talking to himself. My vote is he's crazy." He thought about this. "Maybe he's normal and we're the crazy ones. Maybe everyone should talk to themselves. Maybe we're all just afraid of what we'd say.”

“Maybe [the man who talks to himself] is normal and we're the crazy ones. Maybe everyone should talk to themselves. Maybe we're all just afraid of what we would say.”

“Maybe he’s normal and we’re the crazy ones. Maybe everyone should talk to themselves. Maybe we’re all just afraid of what we’d say.”

“We'll know we've got it right when they choose for themselves," he used to say. That doesn't make sense. 'That's what I thought too. I asked him what he meant, but he just shrugged. I don't think he knew himself. But I keep thinking maybe that stray is making exactly the kind of choice he talked about. We're talking about an adult dog, a dog that's been out in the woods for a long time, trying to decide whether or not we can be trusted. Whether this is his place. And it matters to him - he'd rather starve than make the wrong decision.”

“I have no idea what he wants. Maybe he needs to remind you to pack your skimpiest swimsuit.” He paused. “Oh, wait, no. That’s me.” He grinned as I rolled my eyes. “Why do I even try to have normal conversations with you?” I asked him. “Because you like talking to me.”

“With what you were talking about before. The world being broken. Maybe it isn't that we're supposed to find the pieces and put them back together. Maybe we're the pieces." Nick says."Maybe," Nick says, "what we're supposed to do is come together. That's how we stop the breaking.”