An act of evil is the death of wonder

An act of evil is the death of wonder

Do not be confused by what the natural world knows: We are all, in our own way, completely and totally alone. If love is real, it is complete and total failing of the intellect. It is utter self-destruction. It is pandemonium.

Sex scenes in books are always like first person, from this male perspective and just about how awesome he is. It feels like such a fantasy.

It is what we see when we imagine what the afterlife must be like: our happiest triumphs, our most sincere moments, stolen from the seam of our lives, a respite just before the onset of imminent tragedy.

Maybe that's why people have friends at all. Not because they like them so much but because they don't make them feel so much worse.

The city glitters past us with its sharp edges, reminding us of how tiny, how weak, how totally unimportant we are.