At the end, we brought her to New York, where I was living, for a series of experimental tortures that increased the misery of her days without increasing the number of them.

We didn't talk much. But we didn't need to.

It hurts because it mattered.

But what could I lose by continuing that had not already been lost?

At some point we all look up and realize we are lost in a maze.

If you don't say the honest thing, it never becomes true.

there is no best and no worst, ...those judgments have no real meaning because there is only what is