I live to feel her fingers move inside of me like this. The bus makes another stop. A fat man climbs aboard, hauling himself up the stairs. I would kill him for one more moment with her fingers inside me. I don’t have to. She gives me my moment for free. He lives because of her generosity. We all live because of her generosity.

You are never so low that you deserve to be lower.

Judge if you want, we are all going to die. I intend to deserve it.

Romance is all about making a story out of our love.

Depression is like slashing at ghosts. Of course it's tempting to finally cut something real.

There's a romance to danger. There's a romance to drinking, to drugs, to petty crime and to heartbreak and loneliness. All of those things can be used to make the story of our lives better.

Home is where the heart is, until we get a chance to bury it. Home is where the heart pulled the nails out of its feet, and fled.