Thinking of nothing. Trying to think of nothing. Thinking of everything.

You make a life out of what you have, not what you're missing.

A girl expecting rescue never learns to save herself. Even with the means, she will find her courage wanting.

Memory is a cruel mistress with whom we all must learn to dance.

It's a terrible thing, isn't it, the way we throw people away?

Reluctance to begin is quick to befriend procrastination. . . .

In each man's heart there lies a hole. A dark abyss of need, the filling of which takes precedence over all else.

His words had tossed the book that was her life into the air and the pages had been blown into disarray, could never be put back together to tell the same story.

It was such a pleasure to sink one's hands into the warm earth, to feel at one's fingertips the possibilities of the new season.

There's a market for mysteries for adults. That feeling of opening a book and delving inside and not coming out until you've closed the book.

But history is a faithless teller whose cruel recourse to hindsight makes fools of its actors.

Injuries heal, but wrinkles are the scars of time.

We all lose people. We all have to live in the aftermath. It’s how we move forward that counts, but sometimes we are tethered to something in our past that won’t let us move forward.

We have the riots we deserve.

Relying on another is an expression of attachment, not love, a manifestation of insecurity and suffering, not understanding the true nature of our lives.

Bless my family, kindred, friends and country, be our God and guide this day and forever for His sake, who lay down in the grave and arose again for us, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

If I had known what it would be like to have it all - I might have been willing to settle for less.

And all those exclamation marks, you notice? Five? A sure sign of someone who wears his underpants on his head.

I am the princess of G.O.O.D. Music, the first lady of G.O.O.D. Music, the baby of G.O.O.D. Music. I'm kinda the spoiled brat right now. I could get whatever I want.

How are we to account for the strange human craving for the pleasure of feeling afraid which is so much involved in our love of ghost stories?

I don't drink water. Have you seen the way it rusts pipes?