“The conversation between your fingers and someone else’s skin. This is the most important discussion you can ever have.”

Eva’s an enigma, and she’s my enigma. My secret. My lifeline.

He’s just as fucked up as the rest of us. Some of us just wear our creep on our sleeves.

Revenge is all my soul knows. It’s the only thing I’ve lived and breathed for almost as long as I can remember.

We both know you won’t touch her. You’re going to force her to be deprived just because you are.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.

Love me like my demons do.

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people.

You will eventually lose control, and when you do – when you lose every last shred of it until you can’t see red from black, right from wrong—I will be here. Ready to back you up, the way you should be doing for me.

Somewhere along the way, she weaved herself so deeply into my veins I can’t fucking inhale without her breathing life into me.

Embrace the glorious mess that you are.

But I was still weird enough that people otherwise left me alone.

There’s a difference between loving someone as they are whole, and wanting to see all of their pieces. I’ve understood this for a while now, and I don’t fault anyone for it.

Do not feel lonely, the entire universe is inside you.

A mouse trying hard to come off as a lion.

He doesn’t look at me like he’s owed anything. He looks at me like I’ve already given him everything.

Be you. All of you. Without consequence. Without judgment.

We need to start by having a conversation about climate change. It would be irresponsible to avoid the issue just because it’s uncomfortable to talk about.

But when the veteran has a dog, the same people will come up and say, ‘Hi’ to pet the dog and then strike up a conversation.

We forget that we are all dead men conversing with dead men.

A space where the conversation surrounding the issues in our country is offering a seat at the table to all the voices to be heard, a murder mystery, and grassroots look at our own humanity as we move through the parts and pieces of the story.

But then I’m one of those guys that is still a bit afraid of the telephone, its implications for conversation. I still wonder if the jukebox might be the death of live music.

Conversation between Adam and Eve must have been difficult at times, because they had nobody to talk about.

It is not what we learn in conversation that enriches us. It is the elation that comes of swift contact with tingling currents of thought.

Burning logs can carry on quite a conversation!