“I guess I work in small ways. It's kind of like this story someone told me, about a guy on the beach in Mexico throwing starfish in the sea. Thousands had washed ashore. Someone asked him why - 'Why are you wasting your time, when there are so many? You can't possibly make a difference.'""I know that story! The man threw another one back, and said -""'Made a difference to that one!'" Rowan finishes.”

“Toby liked to say he chose not to be impulsive. As if being impulsive were something you consciously decide. When I look at Starling, with her turquoise turban and wet knot of hair, and at Rowan, with his stack of cheap string anklets, I think: Impulsive isn't something you choose. It's something you are. Like gay, or freckled or bipolar. Something I pretend to be but am not. Not really. Not deep down.”

“I know that this time, the worst thing I can do is let go. And I won't be losing anything. Because it's the most selfish thing I could ever do—to allow myself to fall for someone worthwhile.”

“I think I kind of get it," I say. "Your Wanderlove thing.""Oh Yeah?""It's about always looking toward the future. You can appreciate the good things all around you, but the best part is imminent, just out of reach. Like... perpetual anticipation.”

“You can't truly hate someone until you've cared about them. Until you've loved them.”

“You're not big on people, are you?""I wouldn't say that. Just ... when faced with the choice between small talk with strangers and peace and quiet, I'll choose the latter every time. You know?”

“While wandering a deserted beach at dawn, stagnant in my work, I saw a man in the distance bending and throwing as he walked the endless stretch toward me. As he came near, I could see that he was throwing starfish, abandoned on the sand by the tide, back into the sea. When he was close enough I asked him why he was working so hard at this strange task. He said that the sun would dry the starfish and they would die. I said to him that I thought he was foolish. There were thousands of starfish on miles and miles of beach. One man alone could never make a difference. He smiled as he picked up the next starfish. Hurling it far into the sea he said, "It makes a difference for this one." I abandoned my writing and spent the morning throwing starfish.”