For this moment, nothing matters. Look up into the stars and you're gone.

You can spend your whole life building a wall of facts between you and anything real.

Someday you will die, and until you know that, you're useless to me.

It's not enough to be numbered with the grains of sand on the beach and the stars in the sky.

It's pathetic how we can't live with the things we can't understand. How we need everything labeled and explained and deconstructed.

As the child outlives the father,so must the character bury the author.

I wanted to destroy everything beautiful I'd never have.