You want to tell a story? Grow a heart. Grow two. Now, with the second heart, smash the first one into bits.
I was headed for an entire life spent alone, pitying myself for not being more, ignoring all those people who actually ask me to be more, because they see it in me.
I hate everything about her except for the fact that I love everything about her.
All he ever knew of her was who he saw every day. All I am is who I am every day. All anyone is to anyone is a series of days.
I don’t know how, or whether it is even possible to predict what the world will look like the next day. I simply have to close my eyes, and wait until tomorrow in order to find out.
I know none of this seems very believable. It probably doesn’t even make sense. But for once in your life, please, I am asking you to trust me. Trust yourself.
Within a science fictional space, memory and regret are, when taken together, the set of necessary and sufficient elements required to produce a time machine.
Desire is suffering. A simple equation, and a nice catchphrase. But flipped around, it is more troubling: suffering is desire.
It’s like all technology: either not powerful enough or too powerful. It will never do exactly what you want it to do.
If you ever find yourself coming out of a time machine, run. Run away as fast you can. Don’t stop. Don’t try to talk. Nothing good can come out of it.” narrator Charles Yu, not author Charles Yu p19
On the worst days, I feel fine. On the best days, I know I am not.
If I could be half the person my dog is, I’d be twice the human I am.
Only, it’s not an it. It’s a her. A zombie. A woman. A zombie woman. She’s older than Janine, closer to my age, maybe early thirties, missing a little bit of her face, but otherwise sort of pretty in a melancholy way.