“They say that time is relative. I think the way it's treating me it's a distant one, maybe a bad uncle, and not welcome in my house this Christmas!!”

“Time is always relative.... For the terminally ill, six months are a lifetime, and not a very long one. To a three-year-old waiting for Christmas, it's an eternity so distant it's not even worth thinking about.”

“Uncle Sam’s not related to me. He’s stuck his dick in the American Pie too many times to be welcome at my family picnics.”

“Anyway, Patrick bought me a tiara. He also bought me a pony. My mommy wasn't happy about the pony, even though we have lots of space in the backyard of our new house. I have a new grandpa, too. We call him Ru because it's easier to say than his real name. He promised to take us toParis on Christmas break. He also bought me a tiara. My uncle Lor spends a lot of time in the library bus. He tells me all the time why it's important to write stuff down. So I am. He also bought me a tiara, and Mommy said, "Enough already." (So I didn't tell her that Drake and Darrius gave me one, too.)”

“And therefore, Uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that [Christmas] has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!”

“Home. It's such a simple word, one I never knew would come to mean as much to me as it has. It once was my dad's house, then my uncle's farm. Mostly it's meant wherever Charlie and I were together. Now, though, it's you. It's your letters, your words. They're the place I go to with my fears, where I find comfort, where I feel safe.”