that since Cecilia’s suicide, the Lisbon’s could hardly wait for the night to forget themselves in sleep

Paris was a museum displaying exactly itself.

We realized that the version of the world they rendered for us was not the version of the world they really believed in.

That's the way I will write characters, put a fair amount of myself in them, and then everyone else who was like that person, I will pick and choose.

So do boys and men announce their intentions. They cover you like a sarcophagus lid. And call it love.

Yes, you need a passport to prove to the world that you exist. The people at passport control, they cannot look at you and see you are a person. No! They have to look at a little photograph of you. Then they believe you exist.

The following doodle: a girl with pigtails is bent under the weight of a gigantic boulder. Her cheeks puff out, and her rounded lips expel steam. One widening steam cloud contains the word Pressure, darkly retraced.