I wish my shadow would get up and walk beside me.

In one split second I saw everything I could be, everything I want to be. And all that I'm not.

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

Let me just unsubscribe to my own mind already, because I don't get any of it.

All her knowledge is gone now. Everything she ever learned, or heard, or saw. Her particular way of looking at Hamlet or daisies or thinking about love, all her private intricate thoughts, her inconsequential secret musings – they’re gone too. I heard this expression once: Each time someone dies, a library burns. I’m watching it burn right to the ground.

Sometimes you think you know things, know things very deeply, only to realize you don't know a damn thing.

You have to see the miracles for there to be miracles.