“Sometimes,” he said after a second that lasted a million years, “things get broken. And they can’t be fixed.”

“Sometimes the things we want to say the most are the things that should never be said.”

“Sometimes,” Joe said after a bit, “it’s just easier to keep being what everyone expects you to be. Even if that’s what you’re not, anymore.”

“Sometimes when you break things, you can hold them together for a while with string or glue or tape. Sometimes, nothing will hold what's broken, and the pieces fly all over, and though you think you might be able to find them all again, one or two will always be missing”

“Sometimes when things break, you can hold them together fora while with string or glue or tape. Sometimes, nothing will holdwhat’s broken, and the pieces fly all over, and though you think youmight be able to find them all again, one or two will always bemissing.I flew apart. I broke. I shattered like a crystal vase dropped on aconcrete floor, and pieces of me scattered all over. Some of them Iwas glad to see go. Some I never wanted to see again.”

“Sometimes grief is a comfort we grant ourselves because it's less terrifying than trying for joy. Nobody wants to admit it. We'd all declare we want to be happy, if we could. So why, then, is pain the one thing we most often hold on to? Why are slights and griefs the memories on which we choose to dwell? Is it because joy doesn't last but grief does?”

“There are many things I don't know, but quite a few I do. I know you can't be lost if you know where you are. I know that life is full of precious and fragile things, and not all of them are pretty. I know that the sun follows the moon and makes days, one after another. Time passes. The world turns, and we turn with it, and though we can never go back to the beginning, sometimes, we can start again.”