Over this odd world, this half the world that's dark now, I have to hunt a thing that lives on tears.

Did you ever think, Clarice, why the Philistines don't understand you? It's because you are the answer to Samson's riddle. You are the honey in the lion.

You know how cats do. They hide to die. Dogs come home.

I think it's easy to mistake understanding for empathy - we want empathy so badly. Maybe learning to make that distinction is part of growing up. It's hard and ugly to know somebody can understand you without even liking you.

The worm that destroys you is the temptation to agree with your critics, to get their approval.

A census taker tried to quantify me once. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a big Amarone. Go back to school, little Starling.

… It is not healing to see your childhood home, but it helps you measure whether you are broken, and how and why, assuming you want to know.