What I mean is, with love, you have to march into the possibility of losing.
. . .
Everyone scrounged for an identity defined by objects.
. . .
And what's the point of succeeding, Ted, if you can't help others with your power?
. . .
Why were there so many choices? It didn't seem to make life any richer, she thought. All these things made you feel less grateful.
. . .
Life was just guesswork even if you were an eyewitness.
. . .
Jay was convinced that he was impossible to reject as long as he was well intentioned and had a sunny manner. In a way, it was lovely, and in a way, it was stupid.
. . .
Most Americans think Asians are insects. You're either a good ant, a worker bee, or a roach you can't kill.
. . .
Every minute matters. Every damn second. All those times you turn on the television or go to the movies or shop for things you don't need, all those times you stay at a bar sitting with some guy talking some nonsense about how pretty your Korean hair is, every time you sleep with the wrong man and wait for him to call you back, you're wasting your time. Your life. Your life matters, Casey. Every second. And by the time you're my age — you'll see that for every day and every last moment spent, you were making a choice. And you'll see that the time you had, that you were given, was wasted. It's gone. And you cannot have any of it back.
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I'm not saying you can't fuck it up. I'm just saying you should be making the mistakes as you head toward your goals.
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If you had made the hard choices and tried to live by them, you'd be at greater peace with yourself. All this spending is a substitute for what you really want. All this overspending is merely addiction.
. . .
All superior things — all things worth knowing, possessing, creating, and admiring, she'd observed — had begun with vast, impractical wishes.
. . .
It was such a curious thing when you thought back to someone you loved: It was possible to remember the unspoiled things, and doing so lit up a bit of the sober darkness in your heart, and all the while the memory of the hurting cast its own shadow, dimming your head with the nagging questions of ifs and why-notes.
. . .
Giving someone your attention — with the greatest amount of care she could muster in whatever allowed time period — was far more precious than any kind of commodity.
. . .
She'd aged in just two years. Being on your own in the world can do that, he thought. He himself looked older than most men his age. Taking care of yourself came with a strain. And in life, there were many disappointments for which you couldn't prepare.
. . .
She felt defeated again by life. What was the point of being clever and hardworking and not knowing what to do?
. . .
If you want to sing about redemption, you have to recognize the sin.
. . .
Money had always been a kind of burden to her. If she had it, she spent it, and when she didn't have it, she worried about how she should live. She wished she had enough so she wouldn't feel so anxious all the time. Would there ever be enough?
. . .
Why can't something beautiful be just that?
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For this was love, wasn't it? To have someone clean up after you, to think about you when you were sick, to not walk away when there was nothing to be gained for the labor required.
. . .
It saddened him to think of how his own children had no wish to fight, no larger desire to win. As though they had nothing to prove or could prove nothing even if they tried. Casey had so much fight in her, but she seemed always to want to fight it alone.
. . .
"No one person helped me," Sabine said, more convinced than ever that the girl was too proud. "Many, many, many people helped me. The bookkeeper who gave me a discount on filing my first returns, the diner owner who let me have free breakfasts when I couldn't pay, manufacturers who gave me credit when I had no right to expect it — so many, many people helped me." Sabine was screaming. "I can't even begin to remember all their names. Why do you think I help people who are having a hard time? It all goes around, little girl. That's the whole point of it, goddammit! Why must you be so stubborn?"
. . .
Look at yourself. It's all right. It's all right to look at yourself.
. . .
Money was alluded to in where you spent your holidays or your hobbies, but never in dollars and cents.
