They watched as the bird disappeared, until the only sign it had been there at all was the quivering of branches, a handful of leaves falling quietly to the forest floor around them. There was no need for either to say what they were thinking. They had done a wrong thing, a right thing. They would tell no one ever.

Nothing bad has ever really happened to her. She doesn't know things can change at any moment, that the bottom can drop out of the world. And that's a good thing. Of course it is. I wish I didn't know that, either.

You don't always have to see the stars. Sometimes it's enough to know that they're there.

All I can think is that I wish people would talk about Dad. I wish it more than anything in the world.

People are always asking that about books: What's it about? It sounds like a simple question, but it isn't. You could take all day to answer it if you really wanted to. And if the person asking the question really wanted to hear.

People are always asking that about books: What’s it about? It sounds like a simple question, but it isn’t. You could take all day to answer it if you really wanted to. And if the person asking the question really wanted to hear it.