Bridget cried for the leavers and the left. For the people, like herself, grimly forsaking what precious gifts they would ever get.

There are two kinds of people in this world. The kind who divide the world into two kinds of people and those who don't.

Forget Jack, I'm in love with the cold, dirt floor.

Every choice has a consequence, every consequence another choice. Little agonies waiting to be embraced. Only the moment before the choice really weighs anything. Very heavy moments, exploding into nothing.

There’s nothing worse than not being wanted

What she mostly wanted, he learned, was the same thing many people want--someone to notice she was there.