All right, all right," he said, with that gesture I'd come to hate: two open palms facing me and patting the air, as if pushing me away, pushing me down, pushing any tears I might be preparing to cry back into their ducts.

The point of living in the world is just to stay interested.

I wasn't glad that I hadn't died. And I wasn't sad that I hadn't. I wasn't anything.

If you love something, know that it will leave on a day you are far from ready.

I thought at times that poetry might be an elegant way of screaming.

Like many parents in middle age, he's quick to spot changes in the world, slow to note shifts in his own perspective.

For though I was raised Protestant, my true religion is actually civility. Please note that I do not call my faith “politeness.” That’s part of it, yes, but I say civility because I believe that good manners are essential to the preservation of humanity— one’s own and others’— but only to the extent that that civility is honest and reasonable, not merely the mindless handmaiden of propriety.

Time only goes in that one direction.

If there are to be rules, they must be articulable and defensible, like etiquette. I do not do anything simply because my family did it. I do things because they make sense, and because they are elegant.