Last words are always harder to remember when no one knows that someone's about to die.

I don't want to hear another negative word about cheerleaders. If it weren't for cheerleaders, who would tell us when and how to be happy during athletic events? If it weren't for cheerleaders, how would America's prettiest girls get the exercise that's so vital to a healthy life?

I don't know how I look, but I know how I feel: Young. Goofy. Infinite.

He liked the mere act of reading, the magic of turning scratches on a page into words inside his head.

He missed his imagined future.

I call my mom from the car. I tell her that Neutral Milk Hotel is playing at the Hideout and she says, "Who? What? You're hiding out?" And then I hum a few bars of one of their songs and Mom says, "Oh, I know that song. It's on the mix you made me," and I say, "Right," and she says, "Well you have to be back by eleven," and I say, "Mom this is a historical event. History doesn't have a curfew," and she says, "Back by eleven," and I say, "Fine. Jesus," and then she has to go cut cancer out of someone.

Suffering is universal. it’s the one thing Buddhists, Christians, and Muslims are all worried about.