“It’s funny, really: the older you get, the more you know about the world. The synapses in your brain fire at a higher level and quicker function, your knowledge expands. But you lose part of yourself, that part able to imagine great armies that wait for nothing more than your command; the dragon that hides under your bed that only you can see, its long emerald tail flashing in the darkness; the ghost that lives in your attic that only moans at 3:23 in the morning. When you lose that innocence, the world’s hues become dark and muted, and you know that dragons aren’t real. There is no army. There is no ghost in the attic. But when you’re nine? When you’re nine, it’s all probable, it’s all realistic, and even more so, it’s all true.”

“Because sometimes it’s about letting go of what your mind tells you and following what your heart shows you instead. That’s how you know it will always be real.”

“Because you’re worried, Bear. And it makes me nervous. You know when you worry, I worry. It’s just something we do.”

“How do you say what's in your heart if your heart is something you haven't known for years? How do you give yourself completely when all you've done is bury yourself in grief? How do you come back from the dar when it's all you can remember?”

“We’ll count it, even if it’s so incredibly gay that it should come with its own packet of fairy dust that you could sprinkle in the air when you say it.”

“You want to know what it feels like to be castrated? Try having your nine-year-old brother protect you from your ex-girlfriend after you've told her you're in love with a man.”

“Hey, remember when you didn’t know that you wanted Otter to spray his man babies all over your face and we didn’t have to talk about our feelings all the time?” “Yeah, those were the good old days.”