Funerals...are for the living.

Every second of your definitionally temporary consciousness, you are choosing how you spend something that will not last forever.

Bro, it's dark. You can't go to a strange building with a mysterious address in the dark. Haven't you ever seen a horror movie?

Did I help you toward a fate you didn't want, Alaska, or did I just assist in your willful self-destruction?

Where do you come up with these zingers, Clint? Do you own some kind of joke factory in Indonesia where you've got eight-year-olds working ninety hours a week to deliver you that kind of top-quality witticism? There are boy bands with more original material.

And I wanted to tell her that the pleasure for me wasn't planning or doing or leaving; the pleasure was in seeing our strings cross and separate and then come back together.

Half-drunk on well-creamed gas station coffee and the exhilarating loneliness of a freeway in nighttime.