Huge organizations and me don't get along. They're too inflexible, waste too much time, and have too many stupid people.

I’ve never once thought about how I was going to die,” she said. “I can’t think about it. I don’t even know how I’m going to live.

I often recall these words when I am writing, and I think to myself, “It’s true. There aren’t any new words. Our job is to give new meanings and special overtones to absolutely ordinary words.” I find the thought reassuring. It means that vast, unknown stretches still lie before us, fertile territories just waiting for us to cultivate them.

All imperfections are forced upon the imperfect, so the 'perfect' can live content and oblivious.

I can be hurt, you know. I can get as exhausted as anybody else. I can feel so bad I want to cry, too.

I don’t know what it means to live.

Probably." "Again with the probablys." "A world full of probablys," she said.