There is always the risk: something is good and good and good and good, then all at once it gets awkward.

The real heroes anyway aren't the people doing things; the real heroes are the people NOTICING things, paying attention.

I don't think your missing pieces ever fit inside you again once they go missing.

The urge to make art or contemplate philosophy does not go away when you are sick. Those urges just become transfigured by illness.

One day, you’re 17 and you’re planning for someday. And then quietly, without you ever really noticing, someday is today. And then someday is yesterday. And this is your life.

the existence of broccoli does not in any way affect the taste of chocolate

I’ll give you my strength if I can have your remission.