“It was like when you ripped a piece of paper into two: no matter how you tried, the seams never fit exactly right again.”

“But in the real world, you couldnt really just split a family down the middle, mom on one side, dad the other, with the child equally divided between. It was like when you ripped a piece of paper into two: no matter how you tried, the seams never fit exactly right again. It was what you couldn't see, those tiniest of pieces, that were lost in the severing, and their absence kept everything from being complete.”

“You could just tell when a person belonged somewhere. That is something you can't fake, no matter how hard you try”

“Writing a novel is like childbirth: once you realize how awful it really is, you never want to do it again.”

“She said writting novels was like childbirth: if you truly remembered how awful it got, you'd never do it again.”

“I thought again how you could never really know what you were seeing with just a glance, in motion, passing by. Good or bad, right or wrong. There was always so much more.”

“So many versions of just one memory, and yet none of them were right or wrong. Instead, they were all pieces. Only when fitted together, edge to edge, could they even begin to tell the whole story.”