What was the point in such loneliness among people. At least if you were by yourself, you had a good reason to be lonely.

When I read, I want to be fully transported to another place. I want to feel things, smell things.

A person didn’t need to be beautiful, they just needed to be loved. But I couldn’t help wanting it. If that was the way I could be loved, to be beautiful, I’d take it

It was only natural to want to destroy something you could never have.

Love is a check, that can be forged, that can be cashed. Love is a payment that comes due.

I'm always gratified when I check something I've made up and discover that I've gotten it right. How can we imagine something that turns out to be true? How can we know things we couldn't possibly know? It makes me wonder about the existence of a collective unconscious.

A cliche is like a coin that has been handled too much. Once language has been overly handled, it no longer leaves a clear imprint.