Lute

I always love a great map in a book.

The first line isn't really anything special, but the whole scene is so relatable.

I'm always so loud. How American. Indeed.

I like this passage pondering the important of being noticed. Like the tree that falls in the forest with no one around. Does it even make a sound?

"It feels quieter and quieter here, like the world has been forgetting us. Usually I don't mind so much. It's quiet, comforting. But today, it unsettles me.

Maybe we're like the ancient gods. If you stop believing in Lute, it'll stop existing. It'll disintegrate into an imagined thing, and so will all of us." 

I liked this description of conflict avoidant behavior:

"I hate fighting. That's the truth. I hate the irrational feeling of it. The violence of confrontation. I hate how naked anger makes me feel.

That's not moral purity. Just cowardice."

I liked this superstitious bit of language:

"Things have a way of coming true when you say them out loud, especially today, and I'd rather not tempt fate. I am leaving it at that, Nina, and that is final."

I liked this very dramatic bit about life and death and the real meaning of living:

"We live. We remain. We don't know when it will all end, but right now we breathe and drink and smile and laugh and color printed-out pages and salt the pot and roll around snogging near strangers in gravel lanes, and pour another pint, and breathe and breathe and bear it. And isn't every day like this, really? We sit on the knife's edge, enduring this gift for as long as it's given to us, but this is the first time I've fully felt it in my blood, how brief it is. How horribly miraculous."