... if you're someone who knows the worst thing can happen at any time, aren't you also someone who knows the best thing can happen at any time too?

I'm layering away: sauce, noodles, I belong to you, cheese, sauce, my heart is yours, noodles, cheese, I hear your soul in your music, cheese, cheese, CHEESE.

Life's a freaking mess. In fact, I'm going to tell Sarah we need to start a new philosophical movement: messessentialism instead of existentialism: For those who revel in the essential mess that is life. Because Gram's right, there's not one truth ever, just a bunch of stories, all going on at once, in our heads, in our hearts, all getting in the way of each other. It's all a beautiful calamitous mess. It's like the day Mr. James took us into the woods and cried triumphantly, "That's it! That's it!" to the dizzying cacophony of soloing instruments trying to make music together. That is it.

I've no use for talking, would just as soon store paper clips in my mouth.

It's as if someone vacuumed up the horizon while we were looking the other way.

Each time someone dies, a library burns.

I don't know how the heart withstands it.