I looked down and thought about how I was made of paper. I was the flimsy-foldable person, not everyone else. And here’s the thing about it. People love the idea of a paper girl. They always have. And the worst thing is that I loved it, too.” (Green, 293)
“When I thought about him dying-which admittedly isn’t that much-I always thought of it like you said, that all the strings inside of him broke. But there are a thousand ways to look at it: maybe the strings break, or maybe our ships sink, or maybe we’re grass-our roots so interdependent that no one is dead as long as someone is still alive. We don’t suffer from a shortage of metaphors, is what I mean. But you have to be careful which metaphor you chose, because it matters. If you choose the strings, then you’re imagining a world in which you can become irreparably broken. If you choose the grass, you’re saying the we are all infinitely interconnected, that we can use these root system not only to understand one another but to become one another. The metaphors have implications.” (Green,