There are two kinds of fears: rational and irrational- or in simpler terms, fears that make sense and fears that don't.

In love, as in life, one misheard word can be tremendously important. If you tell someone you love them, for instance, you must be absolutely certain that they have replied "I love you back" and not "I love your back" before you continue the conversation.

You know I want to be a director, but you could never truly see the movies in my head and that, Ed, is why we broke up.

I think if I were walking someplace and I saw a corpse my brain would tell me it was a million things before I believed it was a corpse.

I don't know why wicked places generally look wicked. You'd think they'd look nice, to fool people, but they hardly ever do.

I’m not a romantic, I’m a half-wit. Only stupid people would think I’m smart. I’m not something anyone should know. I’m a lunatic wandering around for scraps, I’m like every single miserable moron I’ve scorned and pretended I didn’t recognize. I’m all of them, every last ugly thing in a bad last-minute costume. I’m not different, not at all, not different from any other speck of a thing. I’m a blemished blemish, a ruined ruin, a stained wreck so failed I can’t see what I used to be.

What do your parents know, about surviving?