What can I say about life? Do I praise it for letting you live, or damn it for allowing the rest?

We have no home, she told me. I am your home.

The cake had a trick candle that wouldn't go out, so I didn't get my wish. Which was just that it would always be like this, that my life could be a party just for me.

And I realized as I walked through the neighborhood how each house could contain a completely different reality. In a single block, there could be fifty seperate worlds. Nobody ever really knew what was going on just next door.

Whenever she turned her steep focus to me, I felt the warmth that flowers must feel when they bloom through the snow, under the first concentrated rays of the sun.

And if there is no god? You act as if there is, and it's the same thing.

How easy I was. Like a limpet I attached myself to anything, anyone who showed me the least attention.