The idea that the curtain rises on what is often more or less a happy scene, and it will fall just a few hours later, and everyone will be dead or have gone mad... I find that kind of narrative very appealing.

Miracles are like pimples, because once you start looking for them you find more than you ever dreamed you'd see.

The idea that the curtain rises on what is often more or less a happy scene, and it will fall just a few hours later, and everyone will be dead or have gone mad... I find that kind of narrative very appealing.

I stayed there loving you, though the love made me, not sad but I guess melancholy, for a reason I couldn’t point to.

It was a curious feeling, that something could be so close and so distant at the same time.

I didn't realize this was a sad occasion.

This is love, and the trouble with it: it can make you embarrassed. Love is really liking someone a whole lot and not wanting to screw that up. Everybody's chewed over this. This unites us, this part of love.