More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Remember what the poet said: “Never let something trivial, like a sense of humor, get in the way of a good joke.” The poet was me. He said it right now.)
Her choice? What a terrible idea.
She glanced toward Painter, backlit by wonder, and grinned. A plane of greenery bursting with colors expanded behind her like an infinite inviting highway. Travel with us, it said. Yet there was nowhere Painter wanted to go. Not when he had what he wanted with him right here.
“You’re staring,” she said. He was a painter. Not a poet. But somehow he found the right words. “I only stare,” he said, “when I see something too beautiful for my eyes to take in at once.”
He shook his head. “We’ll be fine.” “How do you know?” she asked. “Because this day is too perfect to be ruined now.”
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “I know you’re trying. That’s what matters.” Pay attention. At times, this is what heroism looks like.
“I guess…there is that carnival running to celebrate the trip to the star.” “Great. We’ll go there.” “You don’t know what a carnival is.” “Are you coming with me?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Then,” she said, “I don’t particularly care what it is.”
He smiled at her. And he loved the way she smiled back.
It’s said that everything you eat, even the air you breathe, becomes part of you. The axi that make up the matter you take in come to make up you instead. I, however, find that the moments we take into our souls as memories are far more important than what we eat.
Yes, a person is more than their experiences, stacked up like stones. But our best moments are the foundations we use to reach for the sky.
“Cold noodles with ice for hot days, warm noodles with broth on cool ones. The noodle princess must be master of both realms.”