Like a tree losing its leaves. I forget even the thing I was thinking.

I wish I had a boyfriend. I wish he lived in the wardrobe on a coat hanger. Whenever I wanted, I could get him out and he'd look at me the way boys do in films, as if I'm beautiful.

I want to die in my own way. It's my illness, my death, my choice. This is what saying yes means.

It was strange how words meant something when they came out of your mouth. Inside your head they were safe and silent, but once they were outside, people grabbed hold of them.

Every seven years our bodies change, every cell. Every seven years, we disappear.

Then she says, ‘I love you.’ Like three drops of blood falling onto snow.

We make patterns, we share moments.

All I know is that I have two choices – stay wrapped in blankets and get on with dying, or get the list back together and get on with living.

I love you. I love you. I send this message through my fingers and into his, up his arm and into his heart. Hear me. I love you. And I'm sorry to leave you.

It's all right, Tessa, you can go. We love you. You can go now.' 'Why are you saying that?' 'She might need permission to die, Cal.' 'I don't want her to. She doesn't have my permission.

Bye, Tess. haunt me if you like. I don't mind.

Are you not ashamed of caring so much for the making of money and for fame and prestige, when you neither think nor care about wisdom and truth and the improvement of your soul?

Who's to know what makes a bird wake up and decide to change its song? It was written that our world would change and it changed.

I'm reading George Saunders's story collection, "Tenth of December." He was my mentor at the University of Syracuse. The stories are mind-blowing like everyone says.

Use God's mighty weapons, not those made by men, to knock down the devil's strongholds.

My law-givers are Erasmus and Montaigne, not Moses and St Paul.

For it is most true that a natural and secret hatred and aversation towards society in any man, hath somewhat of the savage beast.

When I mentioned about Adlai Stevenson, if he was vice president there would never have been an assassination of our beloved President Kennedy

Is there a homeless guy built in to the design of Dunkin' Donuts? ...There'll be an entrance here... a deranged lunatic here.

Truly, there is something to the idea that hero-worship is helpful, provided one worships a winner.

When I die, I will send down a shower of roses from the heavens,I will spend my heaven by doing good on earth.