no matter how happy we are, no matter how much we want our night to stretch out infinitely, sleep is inevitable.

I am not dangerous. Only the stories are dangerous. Only the fictions we create, especially when they become expectations.

I always think of each night as a song. Or each moment as a song. But now I'm seeing we don't live in a single song. We move from song to song, from lyric to lyric, from chord to chord. There is no ending here. It's an infinite playlist.

We switch to another language-- not our invented language or the language we've learned from our lives. As we walk further up the mountain, we speak the language of silence. This language gives us time to think and move. We can be here and elsewhere at the same time.

I guess I don't believe these things can ever be easy, although I also don't see why they have to be hard.

i wish i were someone else, even though i know i'll never, ever be able to get away from what i've done and what's been done to me.

What did it matter to me? Did I think that by making you rational about one thing, I could make you rational about everything? Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to save you from your fears