Through this feeling of helplessness suddenly burst a piercing nostalgia for the lost world of childhood. The way it came right up against the heart, that world, and against the face. No indoors or outdoors, only everything touching us, and the grown-ups lumbering past overhead like constellations.

English words are like prisms. Empty, nothing inside, and still they make rainbows.

Sometimes what I wouldn't give to have us sitting in a bar again at 9:00 a.m. telling lies to one another, far from God.

Before this moment I'd lived as a mind. Body, heart, soul, intellect, so we care ourselves into parts. But the whole of us, what can it be?

This life is but the childhood of our immortality.

We’d torn open our chests and shown our cowardly hearts, and you can never stay friends after something like that

With each step my heart broke for the person I would never find, the person who'd love me.