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

You realize you have no control over how you're perceived.

There are bodies buried everywhere you just have to know where to look.

People take conventional ways that other people have always decorated their cars, and use them as ways of giving other people permission to approach them.

After you find out all the things that can go wrong, your life becomes less about living and more about waiting.

And the more she could imagine this island, the less she liked the real world. The more she could imagine the people, the less she liked any real people.

May I never be complete. May I never be content. May I never be perfect.