Literature doesn’t exactly have a strong mental-health track record.

It is always tedious when someone tells you that if you don't stop crying, they will give you something to cry about, because if you are crying then you already have something to cry about, and so there is no reason for them to give you anything additional to cry about, thank you very much.

We weren't friends[...]We were more like jigsaw pieces, each of us part of the same big picture. There are people like this wherever you go. They are part of the same mystery as you are, but you can't quite tell how you fit together. The world is a puzzle, and we can't solve it alone.

After a certain age, you couldn't even say where you were from. You went someplace, and lived there. And then you went someplace else.

Neither were you [born yesterday], unless of course I am wrong, in which case welcome to the world, little baby, and congratulations on learning to read so early in life.

Chestnuts in stuffing tastes like someone chewed up a tree branch and then French-kissed it into your mouth.

For Beatrice, our love broke my heart, and stopped yours.