Who knows what part we play in other people's dreams?

Grieving is like being ill. You think the entire world revolves around you and it doesn't.

Emotion doesn't travel in a straight line. Like water, our feelings trickle down through cracks and crevices, seeking out the little pockets of neediness and neglect, the hairline fractures in our character usually hidden from public view.

Ghosts don't haunt us. That's not how it works. They're present among us because we won't let go of them.

I figure guys are like Whitman's Samplers. I like to take a little bite out of each and then move on before the whole box gets stale.

I love being single. It's almost like being rich.

God save us from the people who want to do what's best for us.