To me, these people were as exotic as animals in a zoo. I'd never seen anything like them. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to be one of them or simply live among them taking notes and photographs.

For exactly the same reason, it is sometimes satisfying to cut yourself and bleed. On those gray [sic] days where eight in the morning looks no different from noon and nothing has happened and nothing is going to happen and you are washing a glass in the sink and it breaks - accidentally - and punctures your skin. And then there is this shocking red, the brightest thing in the day, so vibrant it buzzes, this blood of yours. That is okay sometimes because at least you know you're alive.

Like cubic zirconia, I only look real. I'm an imposter. The fact is, I am not like other people.

Real optimism is not the pep talk you give yourself. It is earned through the labor involved in emotional housekeeping.

Saying just the right thing after a considerable, awkward pause is far less effective than saying the wrong thing with perfect timing. I'm telling you.

Miracles do happen. You must believe this. No matter what else you believe about life, you must believe in miracles.

His laugh is made if porch swings and lemonade