It's a curious, wanting thing.

Your twisting is done--you have the last thread of my heart. I wonder: when the thread grows slack, will you feel it?

What does it say?" I said, when I had. She said, "It is filled with all the words for how I want you...Look.

life is crap but, every day is an experience

I suppose I really seemed mad, then; but it was only through the awfulness of having said nothing but the truth, and being thought to be deluded.

And perhaps there is a limit to the grieving that the human heart can do. As when one adds salt to a tumbler of water, there comes a point where simply no more will be absorbed.

I never expected my books to do even as well as they have. I still feel grateful for it, every single day.