nobody is like anybody else. that's why nobody gets along with anybody else.

That's what I love about writing. Once you get the words down on paper, in print, they start to make sense. It's like you don't know what you think until it dribbles from your brain down your arm and into your hand and out through your fingers and shows up on the computer screen, and you read it and realize: That's really true I believe that.

I trust the red sun setting, the leafless November trees. On Monday morning I look foward fearlessly to Friday’s eve. But humans are not as reliable as nature, as trees. I wonder if you’ll come back I trust only that you leave.

But you can only lie about who you are for so long without going crazy.

sometimes people think they're above the laws the rest of us live by. they're blind to their own imperfections.

Why is it that people don't know what to say when something bad has happened to someone they know? Maybe because they think there are some magic words that will make everything all right again, only they don't know what the words are.

i want to look at all my tears, she said. which made me shiver

you give everyone the benefit of the doubt. they don't always deserve it.

when there's an elephant in the room, you can't pretend it isn't there and just discuss the ants.

It's a lie, you know, to pretend that nothing is important to you. It's hiding. Believe me, I know because I hid for a long time. But now I won't do it anymore. The truth is bioluminescent. I don't lie, and I don't waste time on people who do.

...and she said we all had to find God inside ourselves, in the things we loved most.

When people say they love you, you just have to decide to believe them, because you'll never know for sure.