“It got him killed, but at least he felt something.”

“If I'd known he was going to die, my last words to him would have meant something. They certainly wouldn't have been my out-of-tune attempt at singing that old Grateful Dead song he loved so much. No, I would have told him how I felt about him, straight out. No more flirting, wild-eyed whispers in the grass outside. I would have looked at him harder to ensure his image was permanently seared in my mind. I'd have asked him a million more things so I could remember what mattered before I got in the car on the way home from Custard's. Because after, nothing mattered.”

“...while well-meaning relatives and friends stopped by, bearing an endless supply of cards and food in disposable foil pans and saying all the wrong things. "He's in a better place now." "God must have a plan for him." "At least he didn't suffer." "You're still young, Jayne. Maybe you can have another child." "You'd stop thinking about him if you took down his pictures.”

“I wish we could get a real tree," Bug says. "Then at least we'd have one real tradition, since that whole Santa thing's a bust. I mean, if parents are gonna make up a cool story, at least do it realistically. Like, have the guy use FedEx or something-no way reindeer can fly with all that weight.”

“I think you're beautiful," an old man at the counter - one of our Sunday night fixtures - says...."You passed the Earl test," she says as she pours him a fresh cup."Ma, he says that to anyone who still has their own teeth. No offense, Earl.""None taken," he says. "But you got your own hair too, so you're twice as pretty.”

“I‘m not in love with him. I‘m in love with the way he erases things.”

“You know it wouldn't kill you to walk, right, old man?""Maybe not. Wouldn't kill you to keep your clothes on, either.”