They discovered that even in the face of pain that seems unbearable, even in the face of pain that wrings the last drop of blood out of your heart and leaves its scrimshaw tracery on the inside of your skull, life goes on. And pain grows dull, and begins to fade

I believe in whatever gets you throught the night. [...] Night is the hardest time to be alive. For me, anyway. It lasts so long, and four A.M.knows all my secrets.

My mother is an office manager, my father a professor of economics and financial planner.

In high school I was the dog, always, and I never have felt comfortable or right in my body, and part of my whole exhibitionist thing has probably been a way of testing to see whether or not I really was this repulsive creature that I felt like for so long.

I can't heal your pain but I can see it. And you don't have to be lost. Not forever.

Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savoring of loneliness.

The night is the hardest time to be alive and 4am knows all my secrets.