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Sooner or later a black car came for everyone.

Joe Hill

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Joe Hill
Sooner
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Later
Came
Everyone
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I mean, when the world comes for your children, with the knives out, it's your job to stand in the way.
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Taking a thing apart is always faster than putting something together. This is true of everything except marriage.
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Were talking about an attitude. Delayed gratification is there, planning, be able to give up something now to get something later.
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Her sanity was a fragile thing, a butterfly cupped in her hands, that she carried with her everywhere, afraid of what would happen if she let it go-or got careless and crushed it.
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Don't mourn, Organise
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I want you to remember what was good in me, not what was most awful. The people you love should be allowed to keep their worst to themselves.
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Was there any human urge more pitiful-or more intense- than wanting another chance at something?
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Some things you didn't give away, no matter how much you owed.
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That was one thing you found out when you were stoned, or wasted, or feverish: that the world was always turning and that only a healthy mind could block out the sickening whirl of it.
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The blood of a redheaded woman is three degrees cooler than the blood of a normal woman. This has been established by medical studies.
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I will be waiting by candlelight in our tree house of the mind.
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Innocence ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, you know. Innocent little kids rip the wings off flies, because they don’t know any better. That’s innocence
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I didn't know the inner me was hungry, I said to Art. That's because it already starved to death.
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She just knew that even when you had nothing, you still had love.
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I remind myself that no one day of writing matters all that much. A story is built somewhat like a stalactite - one little drip of mud and grit at a time.
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Already, though, she understood the difference between being a child and being an adult. The difference is when someone says he can keep the bad things away, a child believes him.
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The language of sin was universal, the original Esperanto.
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Men, she thought, were one of the world's few sure comforts, like a fire on a cold October night, like cocoa, like broken-in-slippers. Their clumsy affections, their bristly faces, and their willingness to do what needed to be done - cook an omelette, change lightbulbs, make with hugging - sometimes almost made being a woman fun.
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... people made the imaginary real all the time: taking the music they heard in their head and recording it, seeing a house in their imagination and building it. Fantasy was always only a reality waiting to be switched on.
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Who knows what may lie around the next corner? There may be a window somewhere ahead. It may look out on a field of sunflowers.
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