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

If we couldn't carry our dead inside us, we would be empty.

And when our sun explodes and we are all destroyed, we'll be rocks and chunks of I am not sure what, and maybe we'll rain down on somewhere else.

There are plenty of fish in the sea, if I run out of women.

If at first you don't succeed...run.

I'd rather die terrified than live forever.

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.