“Everything might scatter. You might be right. I suppose it's something we can't easily get away from. People need to feel they belong. To a nation, to a race. Otherwise, who knows what might happen? This civilisation of ours, perhaps it'll just collapse. And everything scatter, as you put it.”

“We've left the moment. It's gone. We're somewhere else now, and that's okay. We've still got that moment with us somewhere, deep in our memory, seeping into our DNA. And when our cells get scattered , whenever that happens, this moment will still exist in them. Those cells might be the building block of something new. A planet or star or a sunflower, a baby. Maybe even a cockroach. Who knows? Whatever it is, it'll be a part of us, this thing right here and now, and we'll be a part of it.”

“People are always looking into the dark. We're afraid of what we might see. It might be the dark outside, it might be the dark of our own souls, but I figure it's better to get caught looking that to never know.”

“I gasp, because isn't that just exactly what I've been doing too: writing poems and scattering them to the winds with the same hope as Gram that someone, someday, somewhere might understand who I am, who my sister was, and what happened to us.”

“Some people can seem perfect... everything about them can, on paper, be just right. Until you get to know them. Really know them. Then you find out, in the end, while they might be perfect to every one else, they just aren't right for you.”

“You can't always get what you want, but, if you try, sometimes you just might find you get what you need .”