But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning.

Love and used Subarus were two different things. Weren't they?

All of us are imperfect human beings living in an imperfect world.

Being alive, if you had to define it, meant emitting a variety of smells.

The best musicians transpose consciousness into sound; painters do the same for color and shape.

My point is: in this whole wide world the only person you can depend on is you.

I used to run a full marathon in three hours and 25 or 26 minutes. Not any more.