I know what it is to be the one nobody chooses.

I had chosen my own solitude, of course, which is different, but loneliness does not always distinguish between the exile you impose and the exile that is imposed on you; from the inside, they can feel remarkably alike.

I sat in that chair because a small refused child and a self-exiled man had more in common than the man wanted to admit, and because somewhere underneath the running, I think I had come to Colfax hoping that she might refuse to let me leave.

Chapter 5 — This Is Maya