all that I know is that I believe in the sound of music and the running of a horse. all else is squabble.

I went to the bathroom and threw some water on my face, combed my hair. If I could only comb that face, I thought, but I can't.

if it doesn't come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don't do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don't do it.

I can never drive my car over a bridge without thinking of suicide. I can never look at a lake or an ocean without thinking of suicide.

if you think they didn't go crazy in tiny rooms just like you're doing now without women without food without hope then you're not ready.

Belane, are you nuts?" Who knows? Insanity is comparative. Who sets the norm?

I have gotten so used to melancholia that I greet it like an old friend.