There was a difference between people looking at you because they wanted to be like you, and people looking at you because your misfortune brought them one rung higher.

When your mother is made out of your dreams, anything real is bound to disappoint you.

I was starting to see that what looks like garbage from one angle might be art from another. Maybe it did take a crisis to get to know yourself; maybe you needed to get whacked hard by life before you understood what you wanted out of it.

You're unwilling to go out on a limb because it just might break underneath you.

Talking out loud to fictional characters is just the tip of the iceberg.

In nineteen minutes, you can mow the front lawn; color your hair; watch a third of a hockey game. In nineteen minutes, you can bake scones or get a tooth filled by a dentist; you can fold laundry for a family of five. In nineteen minutes, you can stop the world; or you can just jump off it.

You know what the difference is between a dream and a goal?... A plan.