Is it wrong to trust in a beautiful lie if it helps you get through life?

But love, like a mushroom high compared with the buzz from cheap weed, outlasts grief.

Her faith in a loving and forgiving God is strong, but she worships laughter.

But whatever, we descendants of the Girl Line may not have wealth and proper windows in our drafty homes but at least we have rage and we will build empires with that, gentlemen.

Things shouldn't hinge on so very little. Sneeze and you're highway carnage. Remove one tiny stone and you're an avalanche statistic. But I guess if you can die without ever understanding how it happened then you can also live without a complete understanding of how. And in a way that's kind of relaxing.

It was the first time that we had sort of articulated our major problem. She wanted to die and I wanted her to live and we were enemies who loved each other.

There are no windows within the dark house of depression through which to see others, only mirrors.