I can't eat and I can't sleep. I'm not doing well in terms of being a functional human, you know?

I wanted to tell people, "My depression is acting up today" as an excuse for not seeing them, but I never managed to pull it off.

I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad.

And I could have died right then. And considering how things went, I really should have.

I have a system with bathrooms. I spend a lot of time in them. They are sanctuaries, public places of peace spaced throughout the world for people like me.

We look into each other's eyes as we shake. His are still full of death and horror, but in them I see my face reflected, and inside my tiny eyes inside his, I think I see some hope.

It's such a silly little thing, the heart.

Dreams are only dreams until you wake up and make them real.

That's worst than gonerreha, man!

I waste at least an hour every day lying in bed. Then I waste time pacing. I waste time thinking. I waste time being quiet and not saying anything because I'm afraid I'll stutter.

It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare, you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.""And what is that nightmare, Craig?""Life.

How do you feel right now?" "I hurt like hell.""You'll feel worse tomorrow.""So?""So, better get a jump on this while you still feel...not as bad.""What kind of logic is that?" I retorted.

A fresh year, a fresh life.

Is that vodka?" Margarita asked weakly.The cat jumped up in his seat with indignation."I beg pardon, my queen, " he rasped, "Would I ever allow myself to offer vodka to a lady? This is pure alcohol!

We calculated the baseline requirement of diversity.

My father not only has the strength and ability necessary to be our next president, but also the kindness and compassion that will enable him to be the leader that this country needs.

It is better to have a fair intellect that is well used than a powerful one that is idle.

I could not cry for my own brother; he would not want me to. But I found myself crying for this hated stranger and the endless slaughter that I had almost contributed to." (page 8)

I have always felt cookbooks were fiction and the most beautiful words in the English language were 'room service.

Men are not hanged for stealing horses, but that horses may not be stolen.

Humanity, divine limitation; Divinity, human perfection.