“Tell me about Gang Starr,' said Nishant, in an effort to start a conversation I'd be interested in. 'One MC, one DJ...' 'Classic combo,' Anand affirmed.'No hype man?''No.''What do we need Anand for?' Nishant shrugged, ever the pragmatist, never the catcher of feelings.”

“Yo, bredren, we be the illest,' went my proclamation. 'We be the dopest,' Anand would follow. 'Our tunes are going to be good,' Nishant would finish with.”

“...Anand, look at the back of my hands. No hair. The sign of an advanced race, boy. And look at yours. No hair either. But you never know. With some of your mother's bad blood flowing in your veins you could wake up one morning and find yourself hairy like a monkey”

“Does that feel better?" she asked, not expecting any sort of an answer but feeling nonetheless that she ought to continue with her one-sided conversation. "I really don't know very much about caring for the ill, but it just seems to me like you'd want something cool on your brow. I know if I were sick, that's how I'd feel."He shifted restlessly, mumbling something utterly incoherent."Really?" Sophie replied, trying to smile but failing miserably. "I'm glad you feel that way."He mumbled something else."No," she said, dabbing the cool cloth on his ear, "I'd have to agree with what you said the first time." He went still again."I'd be happy to reconsider," she said worriedly. "Please don't take offense." He didn't move.Sophie sighed. One could only converse so long with an unconscious man before one started to feel extremely silly.”

“I started wondering about life stories, how each one of us has one that isn't apparent at first glance, what we tell the world about ourselves and what we deliberately tuck away and never reveal.”

“Do you think I'd leave you alone when you're twisted up like this? I tell you I love you, and it feels like I broke your heart.""No one has ever said that to me. In my life, no one's ever said those words to me.""I'm making you a promise right here that you'll hear them from me every day.”