I think reality is thin, you know, thin as lake ice after a thaw, and we fill our lives with noise and light and motion to hide that thinness from ourselves.

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Love isn't soft, like the poets say. Love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close.

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Books are the perfect entertainment: no commercials, no batteries, hours of enjoyment for each dollar spent. What I wonder is why everybody doesn't carry a book around for those inevitable dead spots in life.

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I think that we're all mentally ill. Those of us outside the asylums only hide it a little better - and maybe not all that much better after all.

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stupidity is one of the two things we see most clearly in retrospect. The other is missed chances.

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People who try hard to do the right thing always seem mad.

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Remember, Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.

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We lie best when we lie to ourselves.

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Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.

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The place where you made your stand never mattered. Only that you were there... and still on your feet.

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