I would have done anything for him. Maybe that was my sickness.

Why didn't he say goodbye? I gave myself a bruise. Why didn't he say 'I love you'?

We tried so hard. We were always trying to help each other. But not because we were helpless. He needed to get things for me, just as I needed to get things for him. It gave us purpose. Sometimes I would ask him for something that I did not even want, just to let him get it for me. We spent our days trying to help each other help each other. I would get his slippers. He would make my tea. I would turn up the heat so he could turn up the air conditioner so I could turn up the heat.

Reality Hunger is more than thought-provoking; it's one of the most beautiful books I've read in a long time.

Am I such a bad person for dreaming of a world that ends when I do? I don't mean the world ending with respect to me, but every set of eyes closing with mine.

Highs and lows make you feel that things matter, but they're nothing." "So what's something?" "Being reliable is something. Being good.

The hardest part of writing is not to get the ideas but to remember, why it is important to get them.