Being in love is totally punk rock.

If at first you don't succeed...run.

When I played doctor I played to win.

I'd rather die terrified than live forever.

Be the trouble you want to see in the world.

Kissing girls is easy, like breaking windows.

Listening to music that I hate calms me down.

You are never so low that you deserve to be lower.

Memories are like everything else. They're a trap.

Romance is all about making a story out of our love.

Well, it's possible to be mentally ill and rational.

There are plenty of fish in the sea, if I run out of women.

If we couldn't carry our dead inside us, we would be empty.

I want to make something, and I want people to know I made it.

The family that prays together, still probably dies in the fire.

Judge if you want, we are all going to die. I intend to deserve it.

Alzheimer's disease is death before death, and I'm terrified of it.

Having all the answers just means you've been asking boring questions.

Happiness is not a house where you can live. (But it is a house you can build.)

I never wanted anything to happen to my parents, but a hero needs an origin story.

Depression is like slashing at ghosts. Of course it's tempting to finally cut something real.

Art isn't just paint and music, art is breaking glass and the sounds we make without realizing.

It doesn't matter if the glass is half full or half empty. I am gonna drink it through this crazy straw.

Death is not the end. Death is an ocean on all sides of our lives. Deep and dark and cold, and anything but empty.

I have a form of ESP that allows me to consistently pick losing lottery numbers, and generally make poor life choices.

I've always known I'd be a bank robber. So judge all you want, ladies and gentlemen. Because you never did become an astronaut.

Home is where the heart is, until we get a chance to bury it. Home is where the heart pulled the nails out of its feet, and fled.

I feel the way bank robbers must feel before they go out on that last job that ends up getting them all killed. That is to say, optimistic.

And when our sun explodes and we are all destroyed, we'll be rocks and chunks of I am not sure what, and maybe we'll rain down on somewhere else.

When the end comes, I hope it’s as strange as that. I hope that the sky tears open and the world is washed with colors that we’ve never seen before.

We are terrible for each other, and, yes, we are a disaster. But tell me your heart doesn't race for a hurricane or a burning building. I'd rather die terrified than live forever.

Satellite images, maps and blueprints of the whole world, of every city. We could look it up and know what's there in someone else's words. Or we could get wicked drunk and just go.

There's a romance to danger. There's a romance to drinking, to drugs, to petty crime and to heartbreak and loneliness. All of those things can be used to make the story of our lives better.

I am writing to apply for the position of bookkeeper. Attached, you will find my list of qualifications. I have been keeping books for four years now, and I am never going to give them back.

I don't fall in love very easily. It takes a long time, and then, when I have fallen in love, I'm still not sure. I'm suspicious of myself. What if tomorrow I don't feel the same? I have to wait, to be sure. And I wait and wait.

I live to feel her fingers move inside of me like this. The bus makes another stop. A fat man climbs aboard, hauling himself up the stairs. I would kill him for one more moment with her fingers inside me. I don’t have to. She gives me my moment for free. He lives because of her generosity. We all live because of her generosity.

I don't know what you believe in. I believe we just stop. Because if we move on to an afterlife, any kind of afterlife, that means there will be other people there. I'm tired of the chit chat. Oh, that is a handsome boy. He takes after his grandfather. Did they change the breakfast again? It tastes different to me. For Eternity? No thanks.

Dear Nintendo, We need a new Mario game, where you rescue the princess in the first ten minutes, and for the rest of the game you try and push down that sick feeling in your stomach that she’s ‘damaged goods’, a concept detailed again and again in the profoundly sex negative instruction booklet, and when Luigi makes a crack about her and Bowser, you break his nose and immediately regret it. When Peach asks you, in the quiet of her mushroom castle bedroom ‘do you still love me?’ you pretend to be asleep. You press the A button rhythmically, to control your breath, keep it even.

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