Dogs are experts at odor. Students of stink. We analyze the air the way humans read poetry, searching for invisible truths.
Humans have very odd tastes. They think their music is beautiful. They are wrong. It is awful. All of it. And they completely ignore their greatest accomplishments: the cinnamon bun, the Snickers bar, the hot pepper, and the refreshing beverage called vinegar.
I enjoy chewing pencils. I am sure I would excel at homework.
There’s always a logical explanation, I told myself. Always.
Maybe it’s easier to forgive others once you’ve learned how to forgive yourself.
There’s a difference,” Stella says gently, “between ‘can’t remember’ and ’won’t remember.
His mop moves across the empty food court like a giant brush, painting a picture no one will ever see.
It’s surprising how much stuff adults don’t know.
My point,” Bongo continued, “is that the world’s a tough place. Doesn’t matter if you’re a bunny or a lizard or a kid.
When you’ve been through the worst with someone, you appreciate the best.
Seems to me there are lots of ways to be brave, Bob,” he said.
Human babies are an ugly lot.
Each book is like a door waiting to be unlocked.
The goal is to get as high as you can.
I mean, I’m not an art guy. To me, art is a glop of spray cheese on a cheese dog with extra grated cheese on top.
You are Bob, untamed and undaunted.
My parents were more complicated. It’s hard to explain, especially since I know this sounds like a good thing, but they were always looking on the bright side. Even when things were bad – and they’d been bad a lot – they joked. They acted silly. They pretended everything was fine.
But my parents were optimists. They looked at half a glass of water and figured it was half full, not half empty. Not me. Scientists can’t afford to be optimists or pessimists. They just observe the world and see what is. They look at a glass of water and measure 3.75 ounces or whatever, and that’s the end of the discussion.
I was small. And sometimes disappointing. But I knew I could be brave as well. I was not afraid to be the first to die. I just did not want to be the last to live. I did not want to be the endling.
With a great show of effort, Crenshaw sat up. He stretched, easing his back into an upside-down U. “I don’t think you understand what’s going on here, Jackson,” he said. “Imaginary friends don’t come of their own volition. We are invited. We stay as long as we’re needed. And then, and only then, do we leave.” “Well, I sure didn’t invite you.” Crenshaw sent me a doubtful look. His long, whiskery brows moved like strings on a marionette.