“Some things in life are certain; death, taxes, and that your family will piss you off.”

“This is what you remember about him: not much, but then you have been assiduous in your forgetting. His red sweater, v-neck, cashmere; the clink of ice-cubes in a glass. He is shadow and voice, but you cannot recall his face. He is behind a closed door, in a forbidden room. He is asleep in his armchair, he is asleep in the driveway, asleep in your sandpit, face down, snoring but not harmless, even then. He is shouting, he is whispering, he is close but also remote as if at the end of a long hallway and you cannot hear him. His words never make any sense, he speaks some other language. His hands sometimes spin away from him like windmills, like pinwheels and Catherine wheels, snapping like firecrackers. There must be pain, but you cannot feel it.Your skin bruises like apples.”

“And so you're gonna beat yourself up forever for not being perfect all the time. Not everything's your responsibility. You don't have to be the best at everything. And don't you dare feel bad for being the best thing that's ever happened to me."The best thing? Really? "I've never been anyone's best anything," he whispered.”

“Right before you head out running, it can be hard to remember exactly why you're doing it. You often have to override a nagging sense of futility, lacing up your shoes, telling yourslef that no matter how unlikely it seems right now, after you finish you will be glad you went. It's only afterward that it makes sense, although even then it's hard to rationalize why. You just feel right. After a run, you feel at one with the world, as though some unspecified, innate need has been fulfilled.”

“You don’t owe me forever right now, but God, I hope you’ll give it to me willingly some day.”

“Thought about sleeping in my bed, but decided I'd rather be in yours. Hope you don't mind...Have a great week.""So long as you leave your pajamas in your own room. They have no place in mine. Sleep tight.”

“Everything changes your life.”