Life with Steffie

“I am but paper. Brittle and thin. I am held up to the sun, and it shines right through me. I get written on, and I can never be used again. These scratches are a history. They’re a story. They tell things for others to read, but they only see the words, and not what the words are written upon. I am but paper, and though there are many like me, none are exactly the same. I am parched parchment. I have lines. I have holes. Get me wet, and I melt. Light me on fire, and I burn. Take me in hardened hands, and I crumple. I tear. I am but paper. Brittle and thin.”
― T.J. Klune, The House in the Cerulean Sea

“You’re too precious to put into words. I think … it’s like one of Theodore’s buttons. If you asked him why he cared about them so, he would tell you it’s because they exist at all.”
― T.J. Klune, The House in the Cerulean Sea

“Hate is loud, but I think you'll learn it's because it's only a few people shouting, desperate to be heard. You might not ever be able to change their minds, but so long as your remember you're not alone, you will overcome.”
― T.J. Klune, The House in the Cerulean Sea

“It's a shame about the c-c-cut on his face," Tipp said.
"Why's that?" Kiva murmured only half-listening.
"It'll ruin his pretty face."
"Pretty face or not, he's still a man, Tipp."
"So?"
"So", Kiva said, "most men are pigs".
"I'm a man. I'm not a p-pig."
"You're still young", Kiva returned. "Give it time.”
― Lynette Noni, The Prison Healer