And how she looked at me like I could save her from everything bad in he world. This was my secret: she was the one who saved me

Both of us will die today, gunned down or smashed up or exploded in some terrible moment of fire and twisted metal, and when they go to bury us we'll be so melted together and entwined they won't be able to separate the bodies; pieces of him will go with me, and pieces of me will go with him.

There's still always the possibility that I've gone totally, clinically cuckoo. But somehow I don't think so anymore. An article I once read said that crazy people don't worry about being crazy - that's the whole problem.

Requiem has been controversial because people dont feel I gave it closure.

people do terrible things, sometimes, for the best reasons.

No one can tell us no. No one can make us stop. We have picked each other and the rest of the world can go to hell.

We are always being pushed and squeezed down one road or another. We have no choice but to step forward, and then step forward again, and then step forward again; suddenly we find ourselves on a road we haven't chosen at all.