Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.

I sleep. I dream. I make up things that I would never say. I say them very quietly.

If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand.

Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.

You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.

He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.

Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else.

Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars for you? That I would take you there? The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube?

You play along, because you want to die for love, you always have.

You wanted happiness, I can’t blame you for that, and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy but tell me you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.

A woman's life is the sum of her choices.

It ain't so easy writing about nothin

Jimmy Stewart lived for movies, fought for his country, and died for love. Now isn't that a wonderful life?

We are not the playwright, we are not the producer, we are not even the audience. We are on the stage.

All good men are anarchists. All cultured, kindly men; all gentlemen; all just men are anarchists. Jesus was an anarchist.

If not me- who?, If not now- when?

Mrs. Teasdale calls for rescue and Firefly delivers the famous line to his cohorts as they rescue her: "Remember, you're fighting for this woman's honor, which is probably more than she ever did."

What will ye then that I shall do unto him whom ye call the King of the Jews?

Sports like baseball, basketball, and hockey develop muscles. That's why Americans have the strongest eyes in the world.

Fiction is an illusion wrought with many small, conventionally symbolic marks, triggering visions in the minds of others