Either I’m funny or the world’s funny. I don’t know which. The bottle and lid don’t fit. It could be the bottle’s fault or the lid’s fault. In either case, there’s no denying that the fit is bad.
I’m always tripped up by the eternal who am I?
Our hearts are not stones. A stone may disintegrate in time and lose its outward form. But hearts never disintegrate. They have no outward form, and whether good or evil, we can always communicate them to one another.
The years nineteen and twenty are a crucial stage in the maturation of character, and if you allow yourself to become warped when you’re that age, it will cause you pain when you’re older.
His heart, like mine, was ticking off the time allotted to his small restless body.
It’s not right for one friend to do all the giving and the other to do all the taking: that’s not read friendship.
It is the same with anything – you have to learn through your own experience, paying your own way. You can’t learn it from a book.
People lose fifty million skin cells every day. The cells get scraped off and turn into invisible dust, and disappear into the air. Maybe we are nothing but skin cells as far as the world is concerned.
What do I like about math?, When I’ve got figures in front of me, it relaxes me. Kind of like, everything fits where it belongs.
A person’s last moments are an important thing. You can’t choose how you’re born but you can choose how you die.
Hundreds of butterflies flitted in and out of sight like short-lived punctuation marks in a stream of consciousness without beginning or end.
Can’ttrustpeople. Won’tdoanygood. They’llkillyoueverytime. They’llkilleachother. They’llkilleveryone.
I hate requests. They make me feel unhappy. It’s like when I take a book out of the library. As soon as I start to read it, all I can think about is when I’ll finish it.
All imperfections are forced upon the imperfect, so the ‘perfect’ can live content and oblivious.
By then running had entered the realm of the metaphysical. First there came the action of running, and accompanying it there was this entity known as me. I run; therefore I am.
Wherever there’s hope there’s a trial.
I’d made it back to the land of the living. No matter how boring or mediocre a world it might be, this was it.
I used to think the years would go by in order, that you get older one year at a time. But it’s not like that. It happens overnight.
Even if you managed to escape from one cage, weren’t you just in another, larger one?
Being alive, if you had to define it, meant emitting a variety of smells.