At a certain point your brain stops to rationalize things. At a certain point it gives up, shuts off, shuts down.

At the same time I know that it’s not really their fault, at least not completely. I did my part too. I did it on a hundred different days and in a thousand different ways, and I know it. But this makes the anger worse, not better.

People could push and pull at you, and poke you, and probe as deep as they could go. They could even tear you apart, bit by bit. But at the heart and root and soul of you, something would remain untouched.

The deadliest of all deadly things: It kills you both when you have it and when you don’t.

We can never understand. We can only try, fumbling our way through the tunneled places, reaching for light.

And for a moment―for a split second―everything else falls away, the whole pattern and order of my life, and a huge joy crests in my chest. I am no one, and I owe nothing to anybody, and my life is my own.

People need other people to feel things for them," she said. "It gets lonely to feel things all by yourself.