You got a death wish, Truant?' Which was the thing that scared me. 'Cause maybe I did.

Love of love written by the broken hearted, love of life written by the dead.

Scars are the paler pain of survival received unwillingly and displayed in the language of injury.

Losing the possibility of something is the exact same thing as losing hope and without hope nothing can survive.

House of Leaves is certainly about the unsettling nature of fear - and it was my aim to address that - but its also about recovering from fear.

I want something else. I'm not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it's drenched in sunlight and it's weightless and I know it's not cheap. Probably not even real

Come morning I found the day as I have found every other day--without relief or explanation.