We were in Chagrin Falls, Ohio. It's a nice town, but it's aggressively quaint. They've got a popcorn shop above a waterfall and parades that come through town. It's all-American.

It's nice to come into a town and be referred to as the manager of the Cleveland Indians instead of as the first black manager.

The best films come about through experimentation.

My heroes are, above all, the great 19th-century Americans: Emerson, Whitman, Dickinson and the others. I love the way they think.

He looks up and the loss in his Noise is so great it feels like I'm standing on the edge of an abyss, that I'm about to fall down into him, into blackness so empty and lonely there'd never be a way out.
"Todd," I say again, a catch in my voice. "On the ledge, under the waterfall, do you remember what you said to me? Do you remember what you said to save me?"
He's shaking his head slowly. "I've done terrible things, Viola. Terrible things-"
"We all fall, you said." I'm gripping his hand now. "We all fall but that's not what matters. What matters is picking yourself up again.

It's not the littlest town in Ohio, but darn near.