“I really wanted something, giving myself permission to screw up wasn't an option”

“Do you have a name I asked?" I asked."Yes." He stared back at me, blinking."What is it?""Clover." He looked away and typed something into the computer. His mouth kept twitching, like he was trying to hold in laughter."Seriously?"He pushed his sleeve up, giving me a view of a blue clover tattooed on his forearm. "I'm half Irish."And half shithead.”

“I'd been preparing myself to apologize. Forgive and forget, as Mom says. "Fuck you," I said.”

“I love who you are. Because you accept me for who I am. You make me laugh, sometimes even at myself. And you make me happy.”

“Maybe I was being naive. Even stupid. I mean, who would trade Standford for being homeless? [...] But I had to know if I was meant to be a musician. Otherwise I'd spend the rest of my life regretting it. Asking myself... what if?”

“First loves can fuck you up.”

“Normal is an ideal. But it’s not reality. Reality is brutal, it’s beautiful, it’s every shade between black and white, and it’s magical. Yes, magical. Because every now and then, it turns nothing into something.”