You are so busy being YOU that you have no idea how utterly unprecedented you are.

Nothing to be gained by worrying between now and then.

A Margo for each of us--and each more mirror than window.

You know, like when you look in the mirror and the thing you see is not the thing as it really is.

I tried to tell myself that it could be worse, that the world was not a wish-granting factory, that I was living with cancer not dying of it, that I mustn't let it kill me before it kills me.

dating you would be like a series of unnecessary root canals interspersed with occasional makeout sessions.

They couldn't bear the idea of death being a big black nothing.