“I was aware too how strange adults were, how theirs lives were vaster than they wanted anyone to realize, that they actually stretched on and on like deserts, dry and desolate, with an unpredictable, shifting sea of dunes.”

“Her mouth contorted, and the wrinkles around her lips were like the dunes of a frosted cupcake. And I just wanted to lick her living word machine (mouth).”

“I drew because words were too unpredictable.”

“How old were you when you first realized that your parents were human? That they were not omnipotent, that what they said did not, in fact, go, they had dreams and feelings and scars? Or have you not realized that yet?Do you still call your parents and have a one-sided conversation with them, child to parent, not adult to adult?”

“[how can anyone] be silly enough to think himself better than other people, because his clothes are made of finer woolen thread than theirs. After all, those fine clothes were once worn by a sheep, and they never turned it into anything better than a sheep.”

“Family,” she whispered. “So many people go through their lives with blinders on. They become self-involved and only want to think about their wants and their desires. They don’t leave room for anything else, and then, too late, they realize how important their families were.”