... I wrote about ... my childhood, when dreams were small and attainable for all. When sweets were a penny and god was a rabbit.

She was always like that: grateful for life itself. Her glass was not only half full, it was gold plated with a permanent refill.

Nothing stays forgotten for long, Elly. Sometimes we simply have to remind the world that we're special and that we're still here.

Memories no matter how small or inconsequential are the pages that define us.

You can hold onto anything to make you carry on.

And I wonder what the sound of a heart breaking might be. And I think it might be quiet, unperceptively so, and not dramatic at all. Like the sound of an exhausted swallow falling gently to earth.

The choir sang and the old man sang and Drake couldn't sing, and suddenly he began to cry because of the music, because of the sound of the boys' voices, because of what they might turn into.

And they held on tight to that beautiful silent moment before words transported them to the realm of the ordinary, to the realm of the inarticulate and mundane.

Those left behind prayed constantly for peace but prayers came back with Return to Sender stamped all over them. Only the roll call of the dead grew.

Nothing stays forgotten for long, Elly. Sometimes we simply have to remind the world that we're still here.

Shut up, Arthur, ' said my mother, and he zipped his mouth shut like an infuriating child.Ginger started to laugh. Not at anything in particular, but just because Ginger was stoned.

Fear has been good to yours truly.

Ah, well, when you explain it like that, it seems obvious, " said Mudge. "Of course, it always seems obvious once it's been explained.

A machine! I have become a machine! It has taken over my life. How ironic! In a world of freedom and independence, my entire life now depends on a machine!

I have always recognized that the object of business is to make money in an honorable manner. I have endeavored to remember that the object of life is to do good.

Sales bring out the worst in people.

Butch put his hand on his roommate's nape and murmured, "I'll do the saving until you get your head back, how about that? I'll keep you safe.

I think Paul Martin doesn't mean what he says. He said he would clear this sort of thing up and he didn't do it.

All violations of essential privacy are brutalizing.

Frankly, these days, without a theory to go with it, I can't see a painting.

Being different is awesome! All of those who are different are more interesting than those who are clamoring for acceptance because they follow the path.