But as usual there's no answer to this. As usual, that's just how it is..

We didn't think the library was funny looking in it's faux- Greek splendor, nor did we find the cuisine limited or bland, or the movies at the Michig….

When it's over you look up: the world looks the same but you are somehow different and that feeling lingers for days..

I still feel like a castaway, th elast of a once numerous species. It was as though Robinson Crusoe discovered the telltale footprint on the beach an….

I hate to be where she is not, when she is not. And yet, I am always going. - Henry deTamble.

The cure might be worse than the problem.

I guess no matter what your family is like, you're not surprised..

That’s the thing about living vicariously; it’s so much faster than actual living. In a few minutes we’ll be worrying about names for the children..

Home sweet home. No place like home. Take me home, country roads. Home is where the heart is. But my heart is here. So I must be home. Clare sighs, t….

But you know: you know that if I could have stayed, if I could have gone on, that I would have clutched every second: whatever it was, this death, yo….

When we met I was wrecked, blasted, and damned, and I am slowly pulling myself together because I can see that you are a human being and I would like….

that's what I love you for: your inability to perceive all my hideous flaws.

That's what alcoholics do. It's in their job description: fall apart and then keep falling apart..

It comes out so quietly that I have to ask her to repeat it: “It’s just that I thought maybe you were married to me..

Time passes and the pain begins to roll in and out as though it’s a woman standing at an ironing board, passing the iron back and forth, back and for….

You're the oddest person I've ever met, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried..

Martin said, "It feels as though part of my self has detached and gone to Amsterdam, where it—she—is waiting for me. Do you know about phantom-limb s….

There was only the cemetery itself, spread out in the moonlight like a soft grey hallucination, a stony wilderness of Victorian melancholy..

Running is many things to me: survival, calmness, euphoria, solitude. It is proof of my corporeal existence, my ability to control my movement throug….

We are often insane with happiness. We are also very unhappy for reasons neither of us can do anything about. Like being separated..

It’s dark now and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing..