“Despite our differences, we did have a history. No one understood where I was coming from the way he did.”

“Did I want a dog? No. Did I need a dog? Also no. We were six kids running for our lives, not knowing where our next meal was coming from. Could we afford to feed a dog? Wait for it—no.”

“Our histories cling to us. We are shaped by where we come from.”

“We find ourselves in a bewildering world. We want to make sense of what we see around us and to ask: What is the nature of the universe? What is our place in it and where did it and we come from? Why is it the way it is?”

“You didn't have to take a punch for me, you know,' he said. 'I'm a lover, not a fighter.''You're a freak is what you are,' I said.He stuck out his hand. 'Come on, slugger. Walk with me. You know you want to.'And the thing was, despite everything I knew-that it was a mistake, that he was different from the others-I did. How he knew that, I had no idea. But I got up and did it anyway.”

“We all have our sorrows, and although the exact delinaments, weight and dimensions of grief are different for everyone, the color of grief is common to us all. I know, he said, because he was human, and therefore, in a way, he did.”