Anybody's true nature is bullshit. There is no human soul. Emotion is bullshit. Love is bullshit.

In good old Colonial Dunsboro, masochism is a valuable job skill. It is in most jobs.

It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.

It's funny how the beauty of art has so much more to do with the frame than the artwork itself.

You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be.

You're always haunted by the idea you're wasting your life.

They assume she was once gorgeously beautiful. Because now she looks so—bad.