A painting is both exactly the same and entirely different every single time you look at it.
It’s horrible to see her, like walking out of the best movie ever into some old afternoon.
Listen, it is not the charcoal that draws the picture. It is you. It is your hand, which is attached to your body, and in that body is a beating heart...
Listen to me. It takes a lot of courage to be true to yourself, true to your heart. You always have been very brave that way and I pray you always will be. It’s your responsibility, Noah. Remember that.
They are father and son, just not by blood. I didn’t know that family members could just find each other, choose each other like they have. I love the idea. And I’d like to trade in Dad and Noah for these two.
Okay. Not gay. Not lovers, they both just appear to like donuts more than your average bear.
Wear only oversized hoodies, oversized jeans, and sneakers. Stay quiet.
Mom has a massive sunflower for a soul so big there’s hardly any room in her for organs. Jude and me have one soul between us that we have to share: a tree with its leaves on fire. And Dad has a plate of maggots for his.
Its like I have a window in my chest where sunlight is pouring in.
Again and again his tongue returns to that space between his front teeth. I’ll look at this tree instead.
If a man doesn’t give his beloved the letter he writes, his love is true.
The smell of jasmine makes people tell their secrets.
Guys like him really shouldn’t be allowed on motorcycles. They should have to bounce around on pogo sticks, or better: Hippity Hops. And no hot guy should be allowed to have an English accent and drive a motorcycle. Not to mention wear the leather jacket or sport the cool shades. Hot guys should be forced into footie pajamas.
Where there is great love, there are always miracles. – WILLA CATHER.
In the worlds I make, anything could happen.
The worst thing that could ever happen to Noah has happened. He’s become normal.
To be clear, when you’re me, guys like him are kryptonite, not that I’ve ever met a guy like him before, one who makes you feel like you’re being kissed, no, ravished, from across a room.
Sadness pulses out of us as we walk. I almost expect the trees to lower their branches when we pass, the stars to hand down some light. I breathe in the horsy scent of eucalyptus, the thick sugary pine, aware of each breath I take, how each one keeps me in the world a few seconds longer. I taste the sweetness of the summer air on my tongue and want to just gulp and gulp and gulp it into my body – this living, breathing, heart-beating body of mine.
He carries pieces of the galaxy around in a bag.
I can’t even remember what he looked like now, but I’ll never forget the reaction I had when I first saw him in Noah’s drawing pad. I had to have him. I would’ve given up the real sun, so giving him an imaginary one was nothing.