People love talking, and I have never been a huge talker. I carry on an inner monologue, but the words often don't reach my lips.

People say children from broken homes have it hard, but the children of charmed marriages have their own particular challenges.

A town so suffocating and small, you tripped over people you hated every day. People who knew things about you. It's the kind of place that leaves a mark.

I don't understand the point of being together if you're not the happiest.

I can't think of anything more crushing than slowly, over time, realizing exactly how wrong you were about someone.

Sometimes if you let people do things to you, you're really doing it to them.

What an indulgence it would be, to just blow off my head, all my mean spirits disappearing with a gun blast, like blowing a seedy dandelion apart.