" Calvin Little, Lepidopterist! Calvin Little, he of the Still Waters Running Deep all over the place. Sweet, belt-wearing, Latin-spouting Calvin, to whom I owed three dollars and seventy-five cents. He had called himself my friend, and for some reason that knocked me out more than if he had professed his undying love for me. Friend, as in the noun-not-the-verb, as in real-life, flesh-and-blood friend. I wanted to cry with appreciation for him. As I glue-sticked the Blue Morpho into the GBBoE, it occured to me that my mind had snapped a photograph of Calvin– Calvin kneeling in the sunshine, his brilliant hair aflame in the light, cradling that butterfly in his freckled hands–and that I might just carry the image with me for the rest of my life. "

― Sarah Combs , Breakfast Served Anytime