The familiar was usually invisible; how many people really noticed everything they saw?

My English teacher said that a writer is the worst judge of his own work.

She's got the kind of ethereal, unselfconscious beauty some young girls possess that breaks your heart. Or theirs.

I am a ghost in a land of phantoms and forgotten nightmares.

Follow your heart. Just don't get lost.

They call it the drowning instinct. It's when drowning doesn't look like drowning. (pg. 241)

The things you think about when you're a hair's breath away from getting yourself killed.

We all have our fictions, little lies we tell ourselves to keep going from one day to the next.

As the dog sprinted back, Jack said to the girl, "Sweetheart,honey, why do you have to be so hateful?" "Why not?" Ellie said. "It's not like being good ever got me anywhere.

What's the point of not taking chances? I don't know if I could stand living my whole life afraid.

Obeying orders just to obey is the mark of a person who has ceased to think. Remember, it is better to suffer for doing what is right rather than for doing what is wrong.

If we don't chase our dreams then we will be ran over by our fears.

a criminal sketch of Christon a diner napkin-'Poet Prophets

The observation of others is coloured by our inability to observe ourselves impartially. We can never be impartial about anything until we can be impartial about our own organism.

Insight, untested and unsupported, is an uncertain guarantee of the truth.

Film is our literature, so we should tell stories that are apropos of our culture, in that we can learn something about ourselves.

Twitter? No, I'd rather use phone and texts.

I always concentrated on doing the very best that I could in the job and the duties that I was assigned.

That's the thing about running: your greatest runs are rarely measured by racing success. They are moments in time when running allows you to see how wonderful your life it.

If there is any God in this world, He lives in a theatre.

The town kept its secrets, and the Marsten House brooded over it like a ruined king.