What we want most is to be held...and told..that everything (everything is a funny thing, is baby milk and papa's eyes, is roaring logs on a cold morning, is hoot owls and the boy who makes you cry after school, is mama's long hair, is being afraid and twisted faces on the bedroom wall)...is going to be alright.

You can’t give your heart to a wild thing.

Finishing a book is just like you took a child out in the back yard and shot it.

So the days, the last days, blow about in a memory, hazy autumnal, all alike as leaves: until a day unlike any other I've lived

We all, sometimes, leave each other there under the skies, and we never understand why.

Whatever relationship you have, man or woman, you have to be very attentive and you have to be a very good friend to them regardless of what they do.

Some prisons don't allow guitar because the strings can be detached and used as weapons.