But, like ivy, we grow where there is room for us.

The word God asks a question and then answers it before there is any chance to wonder.

We really wanted to know all the unknowable things about each other and how we were the same and how we were different, if we even were, maybe nobody is.

It was a small thing, but it was a thing, and things have a way of either dying or growing, and it wasn’t dying.

I am very sincere. Some people are always kidding, so when you're not, it's going to seem annoying to them.

It was an act of devotion. A little like writing or loving someone — it doesn’t always feel worthwhile, but not giving up somehow creates unexpected meaning over time.

Did you ever really love her? Not really no. But me? Yes. Even though I have no pizzazz?