I never understood why anyone would have sex on the floor. Until I was with you and I realized: you don’t realize you’re on the floor.
I don’t want to steal anybody’s story. I very much want to use the stories that I hear to get lost in my mind, to tell a larger story.
One of my best friends is named David Leventhal, and it has always been a constant source of amusement to see how the similarity and differences play out in our lives.
I can honestly say Ive never thought for a second about whether a character reflects poorly on any group. All that matters to me is that the character is true to my belief in who he or she is.
The important thing is for the characters to feel real, and to be given the humanity they are due. That granting of humanity is what separates a full portrait from a stereotype.
Moments into minutes. Minutes into hours. Hours into days. Days into years. Years into possibility. This will linger.
If there wasn’t a word for it, would we realize our masochism as much?
Sometimes desire is air, sometimes desire is liquid. And every now and then, when everything else is air and liquid, desire solidifies, and the body is the magnet that draws its weight.
Dullness is the spice of life. Which is why we must always use other spices.
I am stronger than words and I am bigger than the box I’m in, and then I see her in the crowd and I fall apart.
I find my greatest strengths in wanting ti be strong. I find my greatest bravery in deciding to be brave.
Its a fine line between love and stalking.
A guy can do far far worse than surrounding himself with people who restore his faith in humanity.
Which is more stubborn, the love or the two arguing people caught within it?
My lines all curve. I tend to connect the wrong dots.
I have already spent roughly five thousand hours asleep next to you. This has to mean something.
That’s the problem with having a moral code. We want to destroy the jerkish part of the jerks, but we want to save the human being underneath.
A photograph it a souvenir of a memory. It is not a moment. It is the looking at the photograph that becomes the moment. Your own moment.
I was starting to think I was making up memories, just to have answers. Our brain does that sometimes. Or at least mine does.
I couldn’t remember ordinary moments, only the ones that had made an impression. Ordinary moments were the ones that fell away first.