They always call depression the blues, but I would have been happy to waken to a periwinkle outlook. Depression to me is urine yellow, washed out, exhausted miles of weak piss.

Bang bang bang. I understand now why so many horror movies use that device-the mysterious knock on the door-because it has the weight of a nightmare. You don't know what's out there, yet you know you'll open it. You'll think what I think: No one bad ever knocks.

Love makes you want to be a better man. But maybe love, real love, also gives you permission to just be the man you are.

Everytime people said I was pretty, I thought of everything ugly swarming beneath my clothes.

I like the discipline of writing a script. You can't go into the character's head - you have to find these creative ways to help externalize what they're thinking.

I ached once, hard, like a period typed at the end of a sentence.

I've always believed clear-eyed sobriety was for the harder hearted.