The people we care for aren't always the one we should

And it's hard to hate someone once you understand them.

How long will you keep me?" I asked. You shrugged. "Forever, of course.

You saw me before I saw you. You had that look in your eyes, as if you wanted something. Wanted it for a long time.

Those blue, blue eyes, icy blue, looking back at me as if I could warm them up. They’re pretty powerful, you know, those eyes, pretty beautiful, too.

Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.

It was like I existed in a kind of parallel universe, thinking thoughts and feelings that no one else understood.

Nobody's bought this land. And no one's going to want it either. It's dying land, lonely land." "Like me, then," I said. "Yes, like you." You chewed the corner of your lip. "You both need saving.

Because it's magic, this place . . . beautiful. And you're beautiful . . . beautifully separate. It all fits.

I craved your warmth. I hugged myself, rubbing my fingers up and down. I guess people are like insects sometimes, drawn to heat, A kind of infra-red longing.

People love what they're used to, I guess." "No." You shook your head. "People should love what needs loving. That way they can save it.

Enthusiasm is the most beautiful word on earth.

You change your life by changing your heart.

That metre itself forms an essential part of all true poetry is a principle which not even the assertions of an Aristotle or the pronouncements of a Plato can disestablish.

What I like to think, and perhaps it is an adolescent thought, is that anything can happen. As long as you think that anything can happen, it will. We're all allowed to have our dreams.

I've always been looking ahead, which is a good thing, but getting married slows you down and kids slow you down, a little bit. You look ahead, but you've gotta learn to enjoy what you have.

I'm the last person who has any desire to instruct anybody in shame. That's no errand for me.

It can be a bit frustrating to always get the soft-rock stamp.

If Carl Hiaasen and Donald Westlake had a literary love child, he would be Timothy Hallinan.

How can you look at the galaxy and not feel insignificant?

I'm not going to say I'm a big girl. I'm a very small person, but I'm a healthy weight. That might be a little weird for Hollywood.