He asked about Dad and about Gran—as if talking about something could make it better. As if wounds needed attention.

Do you understand, Cady? Silence is a protective coating over pain.

If you want to live where people are not afraid of mice, you must give up living in palaces.

“I’ll tell you what I don’t want at my funeral,” says Johnny. “I don’t want a bunch of New York art-world types who don’t even know me standing around in a stupid-ass reception room.” “I don’t want religious people talking about a God I don’t believe in,” says Gat. “Or a bunch of fake girls acting all sad and then putting lip gloss on in the bathroom and fixing their hair,” says Mirren.