You can hide memories, but you can’t erase the history that produced them.
No one could say how long that life would last. Whatever has form can disappear in an instant.
So what’s wrong if there happens to be one guy in the world who enjoys trying to understand you?
I want to write about people who dream and wait for the night to end, who long for the light so they can hold the ones they love.
I learned that realism can come in all shapes and sizes. The world is big enough for different values to coexist.
What do you think? I’m not a starfish or a pepper tree. I’m a living, breathing human being. Of course I’ve been in love.
Nobody likes being alone that much. I don’t go out of my way to make friends, that’s all. It just leads to disappointment.
If writing novels is like planting a forest, then writing short stories is more like planting a garden.
She was truly a beautiful girl. I could feel a small polished stone sinking through the darkest waters of my heart. All those deep convoluted channels and passageways, and yet she managed to toss her pebble right down to the bottom of it all.
Sometimes I get real lonely sleeping with you.
We’re both looking at the same moon, in the same world. We’re connected to reality by the same line. All I have to do is quietly draw it towards me.
My short stories are like soft shadows I have set out in the world, faint footprints I have left. I remember exactly where I set down each and every one of them, and how I felt when I did. Short stories are like guideposts to my heart...
Sometimes you’re just the sweetest thing. Like Christmas, summer vacation, and a brand-new puppy rolled into one.
Be fearless, be brave, be bold, love yourself.
Possibilities are like cancer. The more I think about them, the more they multiply, and there’s no way to stop them. I’m out of control.
Silence, I discover, is something you can actually hear.
I happen to like the strange ones. People who look normal and leads normal lives – they’re the ones you have to watch out for.
Even if we could turn back, we’d probably never end up where we started.
In long-distance running the only opponent you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be.
It’s pretty thin, the wall separating healthy confidence and unhealthy Pride.