It's way too early for him to be talking anyhow but I see in his eyes something and I see in his eyes a voice and I see in his eyes a whole new set of words

They put me in a holding cell with a black kid and a white kid and a Chinese kid. We're the United Nations of juvenile delinquents.

Everybody likes to have a place to think, to meditate, to eat a burrito...

Well of course man. We Indians have lost everything. We lost our native land, we lost our languages, we lost our songs and dances. We lost each other. We only know how to lose and be lost.

I'm quite aware of my differences. I wouldn't classify them as weird

Summer coming like a car from down the highway.

What if someone picks on me?" I asked Then I'll pick on them". What if someone picks my nose?" I asked. The I'll pick your nose, too" Rowdy said.

It was so quiet, a reservation kind of quiet, where you can hear somebody drinking whiskey on the rocks three miles away.

The ordinary can be like medicine.

Like officer Dave.He's never said much about his life, but I can tell he's scarred. And he knows I'm scarred too. The wounded always recognize the wounded. We can smell each other.

I think I was born with a suitcase.

Is revenge a circle inside of a circle inside of a circle?

I drew because words were too unpredictable. (5)

I realized that I might be a lonely Indian boy, but I was not alone in the loneliness. There were millions of other Americans who had left their birthplaces in search of a dream. (217)

I wasn't just defending myself. I was defending Indians, black people, and buffalo.

...And nostalgia is a cancer. Nostalgia will fill your heart up with tumors. Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's what you are. You're just an old fart dying of terminal nostalgia.

It's not oil that runs the world, it's shame.

When a glass sits on a table here, people don't wonder if it's half filled or half empty. They just hope it's good beer.

Yep, my daddy was an undependable drunk. But he'd never missed any of my organized games, concerts, plays, or picnics. He may not have loved me perfectly, but he loved me as well as he could. (189)

Is God a man or a woman? God could be an armadillo. I have no idea.

In the middle of a crazy and drunk life, you have to hang onto the good and sober moments tightly.

But we danced, under wigs and between unfinished walls, through broken promises and around empty cupboards.

And believe me, a good piece of chicken can make anybody believe in the existence of God.

She told me that every other step was just for me.' But that's only half of the dance,' I said. Yeah,' my father said. 'She was keeping the rest for herself. Nobody can give everything away. It ain't healthy.