In my junior year I discovered books. . . . Devoured [them] the way other kids did candy or sandwiches, spent days hunched over . . . my spine an oversized question mark.

We aren’t angels. Angels couldn’t breathe the air down here. They’d die.

We can make up for our actions. But for our inactions, what we fail to do ...

Why’d you call, boy? What did you want from me?"
"The company of a friend, I think."
"Always a cheap treat.

The dam of my eyes broke, and tears flooded the land.

In the darkness things always go away from you. Memory holds you down while regret and sorrow kick hell out of you. The only help you'll get is a few hard drinks and morning.