“Why was it considered normal for a girl to live for fashion and makeup, but not car engines or bugs? And what about sports fanatics? My mom had a boyfriend who would flip out if he missed even a minute of a football game. Wouldn't that be what doctors considered autistic behavior?”

“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?”

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

“There are certain moments in life you can't miss.”

“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.”

“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.”

“He'd probably spent as much time practicing scales as he had jacking off.”