Say make me, remake me. You are free to do it and I am free to let you because look, look. Look where your hands are. Now.

I want to feel what I feel. What's mine. Even if it's not happiness, whatever that means. Because you're all you've got.

It was a fine cry - loud and long - but it had no bottom and it had no top, just circles and circles of sorrow.

Evil is just sort of ultimately boring. The good thing is just complicated. It's more provocative to me and more stimulating to me.

Much handled things are always soft(27).

She learned the intricacy of loneliness: the horror of color, the roar of soundlessness and the menace of familiar objects lying still.

You are your own stories and therefore free to imagine and experience what it means to be human... And although you don't have complete control over the narrative - no author does, I can tell you - you could nevertheless create it.