The trouble with excuses, however, is that they become inevitably difficult to believe after they’ve been used a couple of times.
The only things I regret, and the only things I’ll ever regret are things I didn’t do. In the end, that’s what we mourn. The paths we didn’t take. The people we didn’t touch.
I try to know as much as I can about a book before the beginning, but I never know exactly where it’s going to end.
No pain could match the emptiness of separation, no agony rivaled the unreality of not being with her.
A novelist is someone who sits around the house all day in his underwear, trying not to smoke.
It was a once in a lifetime thing. I hate to think it but I bet it’s true. It’s too bad for us that our once in a lifetime happened when were too young to handle it.
I never felt so large and important as I did when being in love was everything. I saw you walking a foot above the earth and I remembered that was where I used to walk.
All I wanted was what I’d already had. That exultation, that love. It was my one real home; I was a visitor everywhere else.
Everything creepy and Southern isn’t Faulknerian, just like everything annoying isn’t Kafkaesque.