I woke up in the morning and I didn’t want anything, didn’t do anything, couldn’t do it anyway, just lay there listening to the blood rush through me and it never made any sense, anything.

We laugh & it pits the world against us.

I wouldn’t kill your pony. I’d like to believe it, anyway. I’d like to believe I wouldn’t drag you out in to the woods and leave you there, either. So far, it hasn’t come up.

Do we simply stare at what is horrible and forgive it?

The light is no mystery, the mystery is that there is something to keep the light from passing through.

Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else.

He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand.