Home is where the heart is, until we get a chance to bury it. Home is where the heart pulled the nails out of its feet, and fled.
Alzheimer’s disease is death before death, and I’m terrified of it.
I am writing to apply for the position of bookkeeper. Attached, you will find my list of qualifications. I have been keeping books for four years now, and I am never going to give them back.
Art isn’t just paint and music, art is breaking glass and the sounds we make without realizing.
You are never so low that you deserve to be lower.
Memories are like everything else. They’re a trap.
When I played doctor I played to win.
Death is not the end. Death is an ocean on all sides of our lives. Deep and dark and cold, and anything but empty.
Being in love is totally punk rock.
Kissing girls is easy, like breaking windows.
If we couldn’t carry our dead inside us, we would be empty.
Well, it’s possible to be mentally ill and rational.
Listening to music that I hate calms me down.
Depression is like slashing at ghosts. Of course it’s tempting to finally cut something real.
Satellite images, maps and blueprints of the whole world, of every city. We could look it up and know what’s there in someone else’s words. Or we could get wicked drunk and just go.
I have a form of ESP that allows me to consistently pick losing lottery numbers, and generally make poor life choices.
The family that prays together, still probably dies in the fire.
I never wanted anything to happen to my parents, but a hero needs an origin story.
There are plenty of fish in the sea, if I run out of women.
I’ve always known I’d be a bank robber. So judge all you want, ladies and gentlemen. Because you never did become an astronaut.