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He would often try to think that perhaps that has to be the case: that our teenage years have to simultaneously be the brightest light and the darkest depths, because that’s how we learn to figure out our horizons.
Being a parent is so strange, all our children’s pain belongs to us, but so does their joy.
“In that case, I’m no longer homeless! Because when rich people sleep outdoors, it isn’t homelessness, it’s camping!”
“All children are born with wings,” she had whispered. “It’s just that the world is full of people who try to tear them off. Unfortunately they succeed with almost everyone, sooner or later. Only a few children escape. But those children? They rise up to the skies!”
The most dangerous place on earth is inside us.
“You can’t trust them, have you ever seen the floor of a men’s bathroom? And those creatures are actually allowed to make political decisions? And drive cars? Do we really want to put people who can’t even piss straight in charge of all the horsepower in the world?
The world is full of miracles, but none greater than how far a young person can be carried by someone else’s belief in them.
