But...books are so much more. Some of them are webs; you can feel your way along their threads, but just barely, into strange and dark corners. Some of them are balloons bobbing up through the sky: totally self-contained, and unreachable, but beautiful to watch. And some of them―the best ones―are doors.

And when it started to get dark you pointed to the sky, and told me there was a star for every thing you loved about me.

The memories seem like snapshots from someone else’s life.

Fred is officially the mayor of Portland now.

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.

This is what hatred is. It will feed you and at the same time turn you to rot.

That's what Zombieland is: frozen, calm, quiet.