I bet you could sometimes find all the mysteries of the universe in someone's hand.
The summer sun was not meant for boys like me. Boys like me belonged to the rain.
I hated being volunteered. The problem with my life was that it was someone else's idea.
Maybe we just lived between hurting and healing.
To be careful with people and with words was a rare and beautiful thing.
We all fight our own private wars.
Another secret of the universe: Sometimes pain was like a storm that came out of nowhere. The clearest summer could end in a downpour. Could end in lightning and thunder.
But love was always something heavy for me. Something I had to carry.
Words were different when they lived inside of you.
How could I have ever been ashamed of loving Dante Quintana?
I got to thinking that poems were like people. Some people you got right off the bat. Some people you just didn't get--and never would get.
I renamed myself Ari.If I switched the letter, my name was Air.I thought it might be a great thing to be the air.I could be something and nothing at the same time. I could be necessary and also invisi...
I wanted to tell them that I'd never had a friend, not ever, not a real one. Until Dante. I wanted to tell them that I never knew that people like Dante existed in the world, people who looked at the...
I had a feeling there was something wrong with me. I guess I was a mystery even to myself.
And it seemed to me that Dante's face was a map of the world. A world without any darkness.Wow, a world without darkness. How beautiful was that?
