You definitely aren’t pretty like you were back then,” Boone said. He put his arm around Cleo and kissed her cheek. “You’re beautiful now. A person has to work hard to be your kind of beautiful, Cleo.

I knew how that felt, to love a story so much you didn’t just want to read it, you wanted to feel it.

I was surrounded by words and stories and dust-speckled light. That’s a pretty perfect way to be.

I know there is a true and scientific explanation of where he wind comes from. But I like to think it happens when clouds shrug their shoulders. When stars spin hard enough for a few lucky people on earth to get caught up in their cosmic whirl. Sometimes wind just feels like weather. But sometimes it feels special, like it’s carrying something with it” -Emma.

The human heart is a big thumping miracle, I decided. What else in the world could keep beating after being so broken?

When you love a thing, it looks worn out in a good way, a better way, the more you hold it.

I guess I wanted permanent reminders that it’s possible to bloom, even when you feel defeated.

I wondered if there was something sacred, something everlasting, about melted ice cream and summer days and good stories.

There’s never an excuse to be cruel. When you meet someone new, think first about all the good and the sad and the wonder and the worry that’s probably blooming in their heart. Just like yours.

Birthdays are the worst when you’ve lost someone you love. Other days are that way too, of course, Tuesdays, Fridays, Sunday afternoons, holidays and school picture day and rainy days. There’s at least a few lonely minutes hiding in every day once you’ve said goodbye to someone you love.