Succotash my Balzac, dipshiitake.

Life is scarier than death.

If it weren't my life, I wouldn't have believed it.

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

While it is always possible to wake a person who's sleeping, no amount of noise will wake a person who is pretending to be asleep.

I would have done anything for him. Maybe that was my sickness. We made love in nothing places and turned the lights off. It felt like crying. We could not look at each other. It always had to be from behind. Like that first time. And I knew he wasn't thinking of me. He squeezed my sides so hard, and pushed so hard. Like he was trying to push me through to somewhere else. Why does anyone ever make love?

You are the only one who has understood even a whisper of me, and I will tell you that I am the only person who has understood even a whisper of you.