Sometimes You Need To Make A Mess.

People Left A Lot Of Things Behind When They Went In The Water. Their Clothes, Their Stuff, Their Makeup, Their Fixed-up Hair, Their Voices, Their Hearing, Their Sight—at Least As The Normally Experienced Them.

She Was Alive, And They Were Dead. She Had To Try To Make Her Life Big. As Big As She Could. She Promised Bailey She Would Keep Playing.

I Told Him, Though, That He Better Be Good To You. When You Came Along, I Said I'd Share You, But I Told Him To Remember That You're My Sister. I Loved You First.

You Thought You Had The Choice To Stay Still Or Move Forward, But Your Didn't. As Long As Your Heart Kept Pumping An Your Blood Kept Blowing And Your Lungs Kept Filling, You Didn't. The Pang She Felt For Tibby Carried Something Like Envy. You Couldn't Stand Still For Anything Short Of Death, And God Knew She Had Tried.

We Aren't In High School. We Aren't Really In Our Families And We Aren't In Our Houses. Those Are The Places We Grew Up And The Times We Spent Together, But They Aren't Us. If Think They Are, Then We're Lost, Because Times End And Places Are Lost. We Aren't Any Place Or Any Time . . . We Are Everywhere.