What molds us is what maims us.
There's something ugly about the flawless.
There are so many more important things to worry about than how you're perceived by strangers.
The loneliness of another can be shocking when it lays itself bare without warning.
Narrative becomes the way you make sense of chaos. That's how you focus the world. It's the only reason you should ever try this writing job.
Which would be worse - to live as a monster, or to die as a good man?