.. the truth is what you can’t see but are certain of anyway.
Girls are always saying things like, “I’m so unhappy that I’m going to overdose on aspirin,” but they’d be awfully surprised if they succeeded. They have no intention of dying. At the first sight of blood, they panic.
Why should I be sad? Everyone has to die. If you have a body, it’s too late to cry. It’s only funerals I can’t stand.
You don’t know where you are or where your dreams end and the world begins.
I laughed when I read about being born with two hearts, one of which is devoted only to destroying humanity.
Some days I wonder how I’ll get through a whole lifetime of thinking. A life that’s just words, words, words, shuffling around in my head. Was I born that way?
You have to trust someone before you can have rituals with them.
If I know something, I am not a victim. Victims don’t know the meaning of their suffering. I am an enemy or a collaborator, not a victim.
I love that moment, when you stop struggling to stay awake and your eyelids shut sink down and you slip effortlessly into another realm that’s beckoning to you.
It’s true that I never wanted to grow up. But how important was it really — to have decided to be human?
How do we know that our life really happened and that we are not simply accumulating details, making it all up as we go along?