I have always felt extremely weird. But I am very happy with my weirdnesses, and I want other people to be very happy with theirs.

The shadow of years was not as big on his small body. He knew I was away . But when people left they always came back.

There was one thing my murderer didn't understand; he didn't understand how much a father could love his child.

She didn't even have to smile, and she rarely did outside her house--it was the eyes, her dancer's carriage, the way she seemed to deliberate over the smallest movement of her body.

For me, heaven would be a lack of alienation. The whole time I was growing up, I felt comfort was inherently evil. I think that for me heaven isn't about couches and milk shakes and never having a troubling thought again.

but, he also said it because part of him wanted more of her, this cold woman who was not exactly cold, this rock who was not stone.

I live in a world where two truths coexist: where both hell and hope lie in the palm of my hand