“There was so little to learn from that conversation, and yet it struck me that the very existence of the conversation itself was the lesson; art has nothing to do with Life's fickle intentions: write what you want. Draw what you want. Perform what you can. In the end, the unexpected twists -- the mutated cells, the choked arteries, the swerving vans -- will always tell the ending.”

“it's simple enough, really: because they give us hope. Because they give us power. Because we want to have that feeling where everything in life melts away and all you have is a pen, a paintbrush, a guitar, a lump of clay, a basketball. We chase dreams because, in the end, it's all we know how to do.”

“... but I know what I feel now so well: this restlessness, this feeling that whatever it is I'm doing, wherever I am, that's not where I'm supposed to be, this fierce compulsion to be everywhere and everything to everyone all at once that leaves me tired and ragged yet still always searching. So I find myself stranded in places having forgotten why I'm there, what I'm supposed to be doing, trying to lose myself and in the process getting disoriented and messy and chasing the fireflies until I've jumped from dream to dream and light to light and shooting star to shooting star so many times I can't even remember what it was I set out to find in the first place.”

“You may wonder about long-term solutions. I assure you, there are none. All wounds are mortal. Take what's given. You sometimes get a little slack in the rope but the rope always has an end. So what? Bless the slack and don't waste your breath cursing the drop. A grateful heart knows that in the end we all swing.”

“So much of me is made of what I learned from you; you'll be with me like a handprint on my heart and now whatever way our stories end I know you have re-written mine by being my friend”

“As you wish. But I'd like to change the pace a little. You know, my throat is sore from talking so much. So, what would you think if I tell you about the Sullens through interpretive dance? Honestly, I'm quite good at it, and I usually charge admission, or at the very least ask for a box of treats. But for you, tonight's performance it's on the house.”

“Maybe Shooter was a writer. He fulfilled both of the main requirements: he told a tale you wanted to hear to the end, even if you had a pretty good idea what the end was going to be, and he was so full of shit he squeaked. ”