“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.”

“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.”

“Isn't that what your memory was about, Bria? Losing control?" I pause. "I never knew memories were about anything. Besides the obvious. You make them sound like dreams -- subject to interpretation.""I think the two are more related than we realize. It's all in how our minds frame them. How we decide what -- and how -- we remember.”

“She turned up the volume. I listened for a second to the high-pitched garble of Italian. "Taffeta," I said, "how is this your favorite part? You don't even know what the words mean.""I do too," she insisted."No you don't--they're in another language.""Yes I do, Grace." She swiveled the volume knob. "Listen.”

“My dad didn't find me - I found myself. So that's when I figured out that the only person who could take care of me was me.”

“It’s not that I want to join in. It’s just . . . I want to want to, if that makes any sense. My time with Toby taught me to look both ways before attempting anything new. Until now, when even the suggestion of joining in makes me resist.”