“When the subject of kids first came up years ago, I'd joked that the only thing I could imagine worse than me as a mother was Clay as a father. I couldn't have been more wrong. Clay was an amazing parents. The guy who couldn't spare a few minutes to hear a mutt's side of the story could listen to his kids talk all day. The guy who couldn't sit still through a brief council meeting could spend hours building Lego castles with his kids. The guy who solved problems with his fists never even raised his voice to his children. And if sometimes Clay was a little too indulgent, a little too slow to discipline, preferring to leave that to me, I was okay with it. He supported and enforced my decisions and we presented a unified front to our children, and that was all that mattered.”

“Y-naga: "That's the thing... It's like trying to find a guy who's a kid at heart but still a responsible adult, so he can be counted on when I find myself in a pinch, somebody who's a little wild at times but normally lets me have my way even when I'm being selfish and just says, "well, if you insist," a guy who's not too full of himself but understands what clothes suit his body type best..."S-hara: "What I'm saying is the pretty ones are stupid! The ones who have it all together are all so, so stubborn that they never do things my way!”

“Once upon a time, each of us was somebody's kid. Everyone had a father, even if he never provided anything more than his seed.Everyone had a mother, even if she had to leave us on a stranger's doorstep.No matter how we're eventually raised, all of our stories begin the exact same way.They all end the same, too.”

“Here's to the kids.The kids who would rather spend their night with a bottle of coke & Patrick or Sonny playing on their headphones than go to some vomit-stained high school party.Here's to the kids whose 11:11 wish was wasted on one person who will never be there for them.Here's to the kids whose idea of a good night is sitting on the hood of a car, watching the stars.Here's to the kids who never were too good at life, but still were wicked cool.Here's to the kids who listened to Fall Out boy and Hawthorne Heights before they were on MTV...and blame MTV for ruining their life.Here's to the kids who care more about the music than the haircuts. Here's to the kids who have crushes on a stupid lush.Here's to the kids who hum "A Little Less 16 Candles, A Little More Touch Me" when they're stuck home, dateless, on a Saturday night.Here's to the kids who have ever had a broken heart from someone who didn't even know they existed.Here's to the kids who have read The Perks of Being a Wallflower & didn't feel so alone after doing so.Here's to the kids who spend their days in photobooths with their best friend(s). Here's to the kids who are straight up smartasses & just don't care.Here's to the kids who speak their mind.Here's to the kids who consider screamo their lullaby for going to sleep.Here's to the kids who second guess themselves on everything they do.Here's to the kids who will never have 100 percent confidence in anything they do, and to the kids who are okay with that.Here's to the kids.This one's not for the kids,who always get what they want,But for the ones who never had it at all. It's not for the ones who never got caught, But for the ones who always try and fall. This one's for the kids who didnt make it, We were the kids who never made it. The Overcast girls and the Underdog Boys.Not for the kids who had all their joys. This one's for the kids who never faked it. We're the kids who didn't make it. They say "Breaking hearts is what we do best,"And, "We'll make your heart be ripped of your chest" The only heart that I broke was mine, When I got My Hopes up too too high.We were the kids who didnt make it. We are the kids who never made it.”

“But the guy sitting at the table next to me who'd been imagining killing his wife and was now imagining seducing me wasn't the problem. No, it was the guy sitting across from me, the man with the bright orange hunting cap pulled low over his eyes, the guy waiting for the right moment to rob the cafe...he was the one who worried me.”

“Gorilla, a guy who got his name because he's hairy and because his arms are so long his knuckles scrape the floor. He's grinning and moving closer and she's blocked in on all sides by a mass of bodies. I look at her and him. I look at the window. I think back to our date. She can always break his nose if he gets too friendly. I jump through, land on the grass, and turn around. Who am I kidding? I want to see it if she breaks his nose.”