Why are there no names for the abscence of things? Why is there no name for the abscence of humanity?
The ending has to fit. The ending has to matter, and make sense. I could care less about whether it's happy or sad or atomic. The ending is the place where you go, “Aha. Of course. That's right.”
What feels best is how I no longer hurt.
We all have to feel empty sometimes.
A cheerleader? Do I look like a guy who'd be interested in talking to a cheerleader?
There is something about libraries, old libraries, that makes them seem almost sacred. There's a smell of paper and must and binding stuff. It's like all the books are fighting against decay, against turning into dust, and at the same time fighting for attention.