What we seek is some kind of compensation for what we put up with.

I'm a very ordinary human being; I just happen to like reading books.

I don’t know what it means to live.

Mediocrity's like a spot on a shirt—it never comes off.

An expectation was there, mixed in with so many other emotions - excitement, resignation, hesitation, confusion, fear - that would well up then wither on the vine. You're optimistic one moment, only to be racked the next by the certainty that it will all fall to pieces. And in the end it does.

Every one of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive.

Whatever can't be expressed might as well not exist.