You never know the complicated deals two people negotiate in order to stay married beyond the first ten minutes.
Death is the One Big Mistake that none of us EVER plans to make.
I am the all-singing, all-dancing crap of this world,” the space monkey tells the mirror. “I am the toxic waste by-product of God’s creation.
And the moment she says hello, I wouldn’t hang up. I’d say, ‘Hi. What’s happening? Tell me every little thing.
Solitude is a natural place for a writer to be.
His eyes the bright brown of July Fourth sunlight through a tall mug of root beer. Quite the American specimen. A classic face of such symmetrical proportions, the exactly balanced type of face one dreams of looking down to find smiling and eager between one’s inner thighs. Still, that’s the trouble with only a single glance at any star on the horizon.
You’re about as one-of-a-kind as a dollar bill.
I was planning to buy a dog and name it “Entourage.” This is how bad your life can get.
And the kid is stupid enough to think a picture or a sculpture or a story could somehow replace anybody you love.
She’d exchanged her dreams of her parents for the dogma of her instructors, but neither of those outlooks were innately her own.
You don’t understand any of it, and then you just die.
If you want Neil Gaiman I could draw you a map.
The best way to waste your life is by taking notes. The easiest way to avoid living is to just watch.
Purgatory is where you unwrite the book of your life story.
Katherine’s theory is that everyone looking to make a new life migrates west, across America to the Pacific Ocean. Once there, the cheapest city where they can live is Portland. This gives us the most cracked of the crackpots. The misfits among misfits. “We just accumulate more and more strange people,” she says. “All we are are the fugitives and refugees.
Edition to edition, the symptoms change. Sane people are insane by a new standard. People who used to be called insane are the picture of perfect mental health.
Then since the autopilot will have it trimmed out to fly in a straight line, the glider will begin what the pilot calls a controlled descent. That kind of a descent, I tell him, would be nice for a change.
Don’t take this the wrong way, okay?” She chuckled grimly. “My idea of Hell would be going to Heaven and being forced to pretend I’m like you for the rest of eternity.
For hate is a form of passionate attachment, and to be despised seems better than to be unknown.
Getting fired,” Tyler says, “is the best thing that could happen to any of us.