Blame is a bitter and indigestible thing, even when the blame is a coat you cut for yourself, even when you stood right there and got yourself measured so you could wear it right.

A life to hold, or to see slip through uncaring and inattentive hands, but always a life. And given one, we wish for two, or three, or more, so easily forgetting the one we had was spent unwisely

Let the past be what it was, the present what it is, the future the best it can be.

Don’t ever stop writing. This is the way the world will find out who you are.

Sorry is for the things you've done that you shouldn't have not for things you believe in.

I’m in love with fiction. A fantasy that slips between my fingers when reality sets in.

I'll stop wearing black when they invent a darker color.

The idea that He would take his attention away from the universe in order to give me a bicycle with three speeds is just so unlikely I can't go along with it.

One man's Poison Ivy is another Fellow's Spinach.

The audience bursts into laughter. With the tragic gag I don't expect the audience to laugh (if they do, I have failed) but I expect a black silence from them that is almost as violent: as laughter.

But now the world, he thought, had taken them. He knew that this could suddenly happen. One day you just woke up, and there was somewhere that you needed to be.

Time. There seems to be vast quantities of the stuff spooling around me in all directions, everywhere i look. Days and hours. Weeks and minutes. Years. The hard part, ive discovered, is filling it.

All you can do is the best you can do.

I turn all thorn then, but you come back again and make my thorniness fragrant and pink and petaled.

O heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head You'd know the folly of being comforted.