When we finished the kiss she said laughing, I can taste your loneliness - it tastes like vinegar. That annoyed me. Everyone knows loneliness tastes like cold potato soup.

Sometimes not talking is effortless, and other times it’s more exhausting than lifting pianos.

Amen' is like the Send button on an email.

I think that's the real loss of innocence: the first time you glimpse the boundaries that will limit your potential.

Regrets came up and asked me if I’d like to own them. Declined them for the most part but took a few just so I wouldn’t leave this relationship empty handed.

Sometimes they [people] throw off their freedom so quickly, you'd think it was burning them.

Sometimes I think the human animal doesn't really need food or water to survive, only gossip.

After all, memory may be the only thing on earth we can truly manipulate to serve us, so we don't have to look back at ourselves in the receding past and think, What an arsehole!

...I wondered if it was blasphemous to tell God that rainbows are kitsch.

The moment seemed endless, but it was probably only half that.

The past is truly an inoperable tumour that spreads to the present.

I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.

As Harvard University psychologist Daniel Gilbert argues, 'You can't adapt to commuting, because it's entirely unpredictable. Driving in traffic is a different kind of hell every day.'

I like terra firma - the more firma the less terra.

Reached only by boat, seaplane and, with less surety, telephone-this is Fire Island, a pile of sand beneath a pile of people.

The secret to doing anything is believing you can do it.

I spend a lot of my time looking at blue, The colour of my room and my mood.

A wrongdoer is often a man who has left something undone, not always one who has done something.

Often we have no choice about doing things, but we can always choose how to do them.

It is only when we realize that life is taking us nowhere that it begins to have meaning.

Poets find truth by writing about what they love.