You think you know someone. But mostly you just know what you want to know.

I am; I was. I want to be.

Who knows what may lie around the next corner? There may be a window somewhere ahead. It may look out on a field of sunflowers.

Horror was rooted in sympathy . . . in understanding what it would be like to suffer the worst.

Don't ever have children, Tyler, unless you're ready to be afraid everyday for the rest of your life.

The soul may not be destroyed. The soul goes on forever. Like the number pi, it is without cessation or conclusion. Like pi it is a constant. Pi is an irrational number, incapable of being made into a fraction, impossible to divide from itself. So, too, the soul is an irrational, indivisible equation that perfectly expresses one thing: you.

I felt like it needed some color down there, so I painted the walls with the motherfucker.