Neither of us, it turns out, has been the only one who lost someone she loved.

We make messes of our lives, but every now and then, we manage to do something that's exactly right. The challenge is figuring out which is which.

Is it a crime when you love someone so much that you can't stand the thought of them changing? Is it a crime when you love someone so much that you can't see clearly?

Suddenly this is all too hard. I am tired of putting up walls. I want someone with the strength - and the honesty - to break them down.

...when they look at me, I so badly want to be who they see.

Sometimes I think my whole life has been about holding on to you.

When I'm with you, bells go off in my head like a moving truck that's backing up.

Memories aren't stored in the heart or the head or even the soul, if you ask me, but in the spaces between any given two people.

When your mother is made out of your dreams, anything real is bound to disappoint you.

In half hour my mother has managed to give me what my father couldn't: my past.

You can't hate someone until you know what it might be like to love them.

The man was bearing down on me. My hands were limp and wet. Please, I thought. Please. Who was I addressing? The man? God? Whoever handled these things.

The fickleness of the woman I love is equalled by the infernal constancy of the women who love me.

I don't have to take this abuse from you -- I have hundreds of people waiting in line to abuse me!

My way of learning is to heave a wild and unpredictable monkey-wrench into the machinery.

The heart is an organ of fire and you can't stop it from feeling or connecting.

From politics it was an easy step to silence.

I wish they'd had electric guitars in cotton fields back in the good old days. A whole lot of things would've been straightened out.

The masses have no habit of self-reliance or original action.

More and more the world is growing to love a lover, and one has only to read the newspapers to see how sympathetic are the times to any generous and adventurous display of the passions.

You are a volume in the divine book A mirror to the power that created the universe Whatever you want, ask it of yourself Whatever you’re looking for can only be found Inside of you