Let it be. Silly song, really. You let it be, it returns. There's the truth. You let it be, it drags you to the ground. You let it be, it crawls up your walls.

We have to admire the world for not ending on us.

It had never occurred to me before but everything in New York is built upon another thing, nothing is entirely by itself, each thing as strange as the last, and connected.

Sometimes, in life, nothing happens. But, sometimes, nothing happens beautifully.

She's always thought that one of the beauties of New York is that you can be from anywhere and within moments of landing its yours.

I'm only telling you on the truth," he said. "If you can't stand the truth, don't ask for it.

I have different books for different times of the day, let alone different seasons of the year!