Happiness is not a house where you can live. (But it is a house you can build.)

Being in love is totally punk rock.

I don't fall in love very easily. It takes a long time, and then, when I have fallen in love, I'm still not sure. I'm suspicious of myself. What if tomorrow I don't feel the same? I have to wait, to be sure. And I wait and wait.

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.

When the end comes, I hope it’s as strange as that. I hope that the sky tears open and the world is washed with colors that we’ve never seen before.

I never wanted anything to happen to my parents, but a hero needs an origin story.

I feel the way bank robbers must feel before they go out on that last job that ends up getting them all killed. That is to say, optimistic.