Human frailty, far from being abhorred, should be celebrated, Hannah believed. 

 Rich was mad at his mother so he stepped on a crack and the fear and regret immediately rushed in. 

 Sing for the sake of the song. 

Hank was always up while the birds still slept and asleep before the cicadas awoke. 

 The cat rolled onto its back and as Shelly went in for a belly rub she knew there was a 50/50 chance she'd end up being clawed, but she was willing to take that risk. 

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"The secret to happines," the old man whipered into my ear as I stood over his hopital bed, "is spellcheck, something you have yet to lern." 

 I had something clever in mind but my brain disagreed. 

The taste of the summer's fruit lingered even as the season began to fade. 

 Elise was so boring that even when she revealed her darkest secrets they failed to make a stir among her gossip-hungry friends. 

 Bickering was Bill's favorite pastime. 

Shelly often wondered how certain of her friends had managed to survive as long as they had. 

His cutting remarks were too dull to draw blood. 

 Nothing would change even if we could go back again and nothing would ever change if we could again go back (though there would be slight variations as you can see).  

She considered her combativeness as a cozy sweater on a chilly night: not necessary but comforting all the same. 

"I may be little," Brian said with deadly earnestness " but so are kidney stones and my dad says there's nothing more painful in the world so you best watch out." 

He had a messiah complex but his mom still made him clean his room. 

 The joke, it seemed, was always on us. 

Wordsworth knew the value of words but Whitman wasn't known for his wit.  

The sun still rose, the grass was still emerald green, and the birds still twittered, but something was missing that morning, something vital. 

Billy's remarks could cut deeper than the six-inch blade he always kept on him. 

 She sat back, sipped on her big ol' glass of schadenfreude, and smiled contentedly. 

The garden, picked over by pests and browned by the sun and lack of rain, still managed to provide a small harvest for the family. 

 Lars liked his coffee "light and sweet" but personality-wise was anything but. 

 "Fortune favors the bold," Frank said before pausing briefly and finishing his thought "but longevity favors the cautious." 

His life had become the equivalent of a happy-go-lucky bar fly's half-remembered stories that everyone at the local watering hole had heard a hundred times. 

The world, in general, had become better at identifying corporate logos than types of plants. 

Me, me, me, had become our mantra. 

All Wendy wanted was a decent obit that made her sound cool as hell so she wrote it herself. 

 They hunted up and down for opportunities with which to be aggrieved.