“You lose a certain type of innocence when you experience this type of kindness. You lose your right to be a jaded cynic. You can no longer go back through the looking glass and pretend not to know what you know about kindness.”
“You kind of lose the right to bitch someone out when you’re no longer slapping groins.”
“Some days are just born bad. You know the type. The kind you want to sweep into your palm like spilled salt and toss over your left shoulder, hoping that if you don't look back nothing worse will happen.”
“That's what innocence is, you know. A blissful oblivion of what's coming, of what you'll lose and what you'll gain, and what kind of person you'll grow up to be.”
“Is it possible not to ever know your type-not to even know you have a type-until quite suddenly you do?”
“I thought about how there are two types of secrets: the kind you want to keep in, and the kind you don't dare to let out.”