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365 pages, Paperback
First published July 1, 2023
“Human beings are bundles of emotion puppeting muscles like a marionette. We emote not only with our bodies, but with our very souls.”
“It’s a common mistake to assume that someone is weak because they are accommodating. If you think this, you might be the type who has no idea how much effort— how much strength— it takes to put up with your nonsense. Yumi wasn’t weak. She wasn’t a pushover. Don’t assume fragility where you should see patience.”
“She was so tired. Overwhelmed. There was something incredibly therapeutic about sitting, pulling a blanket around herself, and watching someone else’s problems for a while.”
“And more. Yumi was one of the Chosen, picked at birth, granted the ability to influence the hijo, the spirits. It was an enormous honor among her people. And they never let her forget it.”
“Trauma doesn’t decrease with company, but it does grow easier to work through when you know someone else understands.”
“Human beings are bundles of emotion puppeting muscles like a marionette. We emote not only with our bodies, but with our very souls.”

“Yumi was one of the Chosen […]. And they never let her forget it.”
“She wouldn’t leave, but that night she wished she could. Wished she could escape the prison of her ceremonial nightgown. She wasn’t allowed to sleep as a normal person. She had to be reminded even by her undergarments of what she was. Chosen at birth. Blessed at birth. Imprisoned at birth.”
“Now the story thus far might have given you an unflattering picture of Painter. And yes, much of that picture is justified. Many of his problems in life were his own fault – and rather than trying to fix them, he alternated between comfortable self-delusion and pointless self-pity.”
“Um . . . what is shampoo?”
“For your hair,” he said. “Lather it up in your hair to clean it. Then use the conditioner to . . . uh . . . It’s good for the hair somehow. Trust me. It, um, moisturizes?”
“Right. I’ll . . . shampoo, then? Do I do it now? Or after I’ve used the soap? And to what count do I lather before rinsing?”
“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.”
“Why do we tell stories? They are a universal human experience. Every culture I’ve ever visited, every people I’ve met, every human on every planet in every situation I’ve seen…they all tell stories. Men trapped alone for years tell them to themselves. Ancients leave them painted on the walls. Women whisper them to their babies. Stories explain us. You want to define what makes a human different from an animal? I can do it in one word or a hundred thousand. Sad stories. Exultant stories. Didactic morality tales. Frivolous yarns that, paradoxically, carry too much meaning. We need stories.”
“In storytelling, we pretend you can read all kinds of things from a furrowed brow or a fleeting expression. This is shorthand for a real phenomenon, but it’s more complex than we pretend. The longer you spend with a person, the more you know them. But beyond the obvious details like learning their favorite foods, we internalize the way that they react. The way that they express worry. For some, it’s the archetypal furrowed brow. For others it’s the way they linger, the way they won’t meet your eyes. It’s more than eyes, more than posture, more than brow. Human beings are bundles of emotion puppeting muscles like a marionette. We emote not only with our bodies, but with our very souls.”
“This was art. Something the machine, however capable in the technical details, could never understand. Because art is, and always has been, about what it does to us. To the one shaping it and the one experiencing it.”
“Art doesn't need to be good to be valuable. I've heard it said that art is the truly useless creation - intended for no mechanical purpose. Valued only because of the perception of the people who view it.
The thing is, everything is useless, intrinsically. Nothing has value unless we grant it that value. Any object can be worth whatever we decide it to be worth.”
“It’s a common mistake to assume that someone is weak because they are accommodating. If you think this, you might be the type who has no idea how much effort— how much strength— it takes to put up with your nonsense. Yumi wasn’t weak. She wasn’t a pushover. Don’t assume fragility where you should see patience.”
“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.”
“Trauma doesn’t decrease with company, but it does grow easier to work through when you know someone else understands.”
“Everything is useless, intrinsically. Nothing has value unless we grant it that value.”