In the end, the end of a life only matters to friends, family, and other folks you used to know. For everyone else, it’s just another end.
A place isn’t a place until it has a bookstore.
Did you know that there are over three hundred words for love in canine?
It was odd to have something so personal out there in that way, but the good thing about art is that no one necessarily knows what you mean by it anyway.
Daddy always said you only explained things to the people that actually mattered.
I can promise you books and conversation and all my heart.
Wounds are like water set to boil – they heal best left unwatched...
Diving is a leap of faith plus gravity.
It’s a tragic fact to die in an accident.
When I was in my twenties and broke, I’d buy books before food. A meal will sustain you for a few hours, a good book will sustain you for life.
I have so much paperwork. I’m afraid my paperwork has paperwork.
Let’s stay young forever. Young, stupid, and pretty. Sounds like a plan, don’t you think?
Intimacy doesn’t have all that much to do with backseats of cars. Real intimacy is brushing your teeth together.
It is a lie that people who love each other must know everything about each other. Love must occasionally allow for a gap.
In a way, whoever you know in a certain place defines that place for you.
The casualities seemed to go on and on. Just when I thought I was done losing her, I would find yet another way to love her all over again.
Oh, all stories are the same, aren’t they? Men and women fall in love or out of love. People are born; people die. It al ends happily or it all ends sadly, and the difference matters only to the people involved.
Sometimes things seem so unbearable in the middle of the night, don’t they? In the middle of the night, we’re all such children.
But in my defense, I knew enough about her to know I wanted to know everything else; I knew as much about her as she wanted me to know; I knew as much about her as anyone ever knows about anyone. And isn’t love just curiosity at the beginning anyway?
It was funny how dad was more honest in a book that anyone in the world could pick up and read than he could be talking to me. Or maybe it was sad. One or the other. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.