Everyone else’s Minute of remembering is over, but ours stretches on and on. It doesn’tend.

Even when everything hurts, even when other cities are exploding and people we love are disappearing, there’s still space for sweet things.

I want to know if we are the same, in the moments when we’re stripped bare.

We have to give up so many things when the people we love die. So we hang on to other familiar things.

I can’t quite figure out the difference between loving someone and loving things about them.

Love is insanity, apparently.

Love is something you have or don’t have. Love is like a fever.

It sounds like love just sort of happens, whether you want it to or not, whether you’re married or not.

Sometimes words I think are small come out big.

On our own, we’d look totally normal. Together, we’re something else. Together, we’re special.

We don’t smile, but we something. We something. It hurts, the way a deep connection to someone who isn’t yours sometimes does.

subway stations...passengers who token through life

The subconscious mind is nothing but an energy field or mental level that resonates in line with the universal subjectivity.

Only cowards cave. The brave get assassinated.

You must never tire fighting Satan.

Gosh, it was nice talking to you, but I’ve got a lot of things I’d rather be doing. Like sticking my hand in the garbage disposal.

Europe has a long and tragic history of mostly domestic terrorism.

One thing a leader does is to remove the stigma of mistakes.

America needs an adult in the White House who knows how to deal with China.

Though it is a great mistake to make friends of the wicked and foolish, it is unwise to make enemies of them, for they are very numerous.

I think there is something about a story that is enduring. Stories take on a life of their own.