Sometimes a book isn't a heartbreaking work of staggering genius. Sometimes it's the only story you know how to tell.

The words get easier the moment you stop fearing them.

On the darkest days you have to search for a spot of brightness, on the coldest days you have to seek out a spot of warmth; on the bleakest days you have to keep your eyes onward and upward and on the saddest days you have to leave them open to let them cry. To then let them dry. To give them a chance to wash out the pain in order to see fresh and clear once again.

Insane for your sweet, sweet love!

Only an idiot would rely on the energy of a bean or a leaf to stay awake throughout the day.

Books are easily destroyed. But words will live as long as people can remember them.

And some days I wonder why I insist on keeping myself alive.