“Mama was crying, and the rain made it seem as if the whole world was crying.”

“What did the onion juice do? It did what the world and the sorrows of the world could not do: it brought forth a round, human tear. It made them cry. At last they could cry again. To cry properly, without restraint, to cry like mad. The tears flowed and washed everything away. The rain came. The dew. Oskar has a vision of floodgates opening. Of dams bursting in the spring floods. What is the name of that river that overflows every spring and the government does nothing to stop it?”

“Mama," Peter cried. She didn't look up. The door shut.”

“It rains because I refuse to cry...”

“Mama parted with these Divine Secrets because I asked her to, Sidda thought. the reason I feel like crying, Sidda realized, is not just because this scrapbook is vulnerable, but because Mama, whether she knows it or not, has made herself so vulnerable to me.”

“I know a cute thing to say to a kid when they ask why it's raining. I say to them it's raining because god is crying. And if they ask why god is crying, a cute thing to say is, god is crying probably because of something you did.”