It’s never quite right, all the things we are taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we die, all the lives we live.

Even the stove and the refrigerator looked human, I mean good human - they seemed to have arms and voices and they said, hang around, kid, it's good here, it can be very good here.

there is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock

she’s mad, but she’s magic.

they simply never understand, do they, that sometimes solitude is one of the most beautiful things on earth?

Things get bad for all of us, almost continually, and what we do under the constant stress reveals who/what we are.

Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside — remembering all the times you've felt that way.