I sometimes end up in dangerous situations, and I come back to you broken and messed up, and you worry about me when I'm gone. It's like marrying a policeman.

Don't you think it's better to be extremely happy for a short while, even if you lose it, than to be just okay for your whole life?

That's what alcoholics do. It's in their job description: fall apart and then keep falling apart.

In the dim light of the computer screen he seemed otherworldly; Julia thought him beautiful, though she knew it was the beauty of damage.

She looks up at me, still rocking. “Henry . . . why did me decide to do this again?” “Supposedly when it’s over they hand you a baby and let you keep it.” “Oh yeah.” --Wednesday, September 5, 2001

I don't want to boss anyone and I don't want to be bossed.

Why is love intensified by absence?