Small Spaces

You might get to know characters in books, Ollie thought, but getting to know a human was an entirely different thing.

You don't waste October sunshine. Soon the old autumn sun would bed down in cloud blankets and there would be weeks of gray rain before it finally decided to snow.

You can't hide in your books forever. There are all kinds of people, and good things, and life, just waiting for you.

You're kind of grumpy most of the time, but when things get bad, you're the bravest. People can surprise you.

Wherever you go in this big, gorgeous, hideous world, there is a ghost story waiting for you.

Other than her homework, Ollie was carrying Captain Blood by Rafael Sabatini, a broken-spined paperback that she'd dug out of he dad's bookshelves. She mostly liked it. Peter Blood outsmarted everyone, which was a feature she liked in heroes, although she wished Peter were a girl, or the villain were a girl, or someone in the book besides his boat and his girlfriend (both named Arabella) were a girl.

Coco didn’t cry because she was weak. Coco cried because she felt things.

When the mist rises, and the smiling man comes walking, you must avoid large places at night. Keep to small.

Don't panic. That's the first rule of survival. Never panic.

Best get moving. At nightfall they’ll come for the rest of you.

Even bad things can lead to good. Maybe in sad times, it helps to think of that.

What’s the difference between a cat and a comma?” “Dad—” “Well?” “I don’t know, what?” Her dad grinned. “A comma,” he informed her, “is a pause at the end of a clause.” Ollie saw where this was going. “Dad.” “But a cat,” her dad finished blithely, “has claws at the ends of its paws.

Ollie’s dad sold people solar panels. He liked it fine. But what he really loved was making things. Ollie had never seen his hands still, not since she was a baby. In the long summer afternoons, he built birdhouses or furniture; in the evenings he cooked or knitted or showed her how to make plates out of clay.

Supper’s ready,’ he said, and smiled.

Coco didn't cry because she was weak. Coco cried because she felt things.

Well, I only learned reeling and writhing,” Brian said conversationally to the top of her head. “And then the different branches of arithmetic—ambition, distraction, uglification, and derision.