It's just that it's impossible to be a broken or whole person. You can only be a person. You can only exist, you can only belong to yourself, and you can only be responsible for your own happiness or belonging or whatever. That broken-part-piece-whole thing is just a trick of the mortal mind.

My sister has the heart of an artist with a hatchet and an eye patch. And I, we both now know, have a heart that is undeniably, irreparably different.

Knowledge does have a way of making you an outcast.

I like libraries. It's a comfort that knowledge can be save for so long. That what we learn can be passed on.

Making fake promises while wearing a fancy dress... that isn't enough. Promises take more work than that.

Books didn't make me wallow in darkness, darkness made me wallow in books.

I'm friggin' awesome! So screw the haters!