But there were worse things than disappointment, and I’d lived through several of them already.

I disliked numbers, and they didn’t think much of me either.

Dark chocolate, poured over velvet: that was how his voice tasted. I wanted him to follow me around and narrate the rest of my life.

I'd hoped at least one of my parents had seen Milo and me standing close together on the sidewalk, still holding hands, as I gazed dreamily up at him and told him that I was going to ship all the bigger transceiver parts to his house. He'd told me OK, but not to overdo it, and could I please get that dopey look off my face before he threw up? So it had been a very special moment, and I was sorry to think that it had been wasted on just the two of us.

I looked up, into the muddy hazel eyes of the nicest man I would ever learn to hate.

I realized then that even though I was a tiny speck in an infinite cosmos, a blip on the timeline of eternity, I was not without purpose. And as long as I had a part in the music of the spheres, even if it was only a single grace note, I was not worthless. Nor was I alone.

Reluctantly she lifted her eyes to his, and he went on: "I want you to understand this as though I were one of your own people." He drew in a deep breath. "Thank you. Thank you for your friendship. Thank you for my life.

I'm just a little cold," said Knife, pulling the blanket closer about her shoulders.Paul wrapped his free arm around her. "It's all right," he said. "I've got you.""Yes," said Knife, smiling up at him. "You have.

This is fantastically squalid," said Milo. "We may never get out of here alive.

But there were worse things than disappointment, and I'd lived through several of them already.