“I couldn’t remember the last time I had stayed up into the squeaky hours of the night because I couldn’t put a book down, and that was a tragedy.”

“Dreamland, I couldn’t stay away, because I couldn’t stay awake. I traveled there in my sleep, at 65 miles per hour, while I was driving.”

“It was the perfect moment to tell her. This is my last year. But I couldn’t say it. Not yet. I wanted another minute, another hour, another night of pretending this wasn’t the end.”

“If I had a dollar for every time I couldn’t sleep, I could buy a billion locks and finally read a book in peace.”

“Once I began a book, I couldn’t put it down. It was like an addiction; I read while I ate, on the train, in bed until late at night, in school, where I’d keep the book hidden so I could read during class. But I had almost no desire to talk with anyone about the experience I gained through books and music. I felt happy just being me and no one else.”

“Once I started I couldn’t put it down. It was so addictive . . . like a train wreck.”