How we cite our quotes: (Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #1
When I was little, my dad used to tell me, "Will, you can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose." This seemed like a reasonably astute observation to me when I was eight, but it turns out to be incorrect on a few levels. To begin with, you cannot possibly pick your friends, or else I never would have ended up with Tiny Cooper.
Tiny Cooper is not the world's gayest person, and he is not the world's largest person, but I believe he may be the world's largest person who is really, really gay, and also the world's gayest person who is really, really large. Tiny has been my best friend since fifth grade, except for all last semester, when he was busy discovering the sheer scope of his own gayness. (1.1-2)
Part of growing up is questioning the wisdom of your parents. Will finally knows that his dad's little comment can't possibly be right—Will sees himself as stuck with Tiny. They sort of wound up together as kids and now he can't shake him. Hmmm… we think Will still has a lot of growing up to do.
Quote #2
isaac's still not on when i get back. he's the only person on my "buddy list," which is the stupidest f***ing name for a list. what are we, three years old?
me: hey, isaac, wanna be my buddy!?
isaac: sure, buddy! let's go fishin'! (2.39-40)
will is pretty cynical about everything. Even the term "buddy list" doesn't escape his scathing critique. What is he, some kid? will might think he's grown up a lot, but he still has a long way to go, too.
Quote #3
this is dangerous because as a rule i don't let myself wish for things. too many times when i was a kid, i would put my hands together or squinch my eyes shut and i would devote myself fully to hoping for something. i even thought that there were some places in my room that were better for wishing than others—under the bed was okay, but on the bed wasn't; the bottom of the closet would do, as long as my shoebox of baseball cards was in my lap. never, ever at my desk, but always with the sock drawer open. nobody had told me these rules—i'd figured them out for myself. i could spend hours setting up a particular wish—and every single time, i'd be met with a resounding wall of complete indifference. whether it was for a pet hamster or for my mom to stop crying—the sock drawer would be open and i would be sitting behind my toy chest with three action figures in one hand and a matchbox car in the other. i never hoped for everything to get better—only for one thing to get better. and it never did. so eventually i gave up. i give up every single day.
but not with isaac. it scares me sometimes. wishing it to work. (2.73-74)
will contrasts his behavior as a kid (all hopeful and wish-filled) with his feelings now. As he's grown up, he's realized that bad things happen. It doesn't matter how hard you wish, they won't change. This has made him cynical and cold. But maybe Isaac's going to break the mold. Oh, sorry to tell you this, will, but...