“Love is the bone and sinew of my curse.”

I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.

I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give.

Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.

We must be moving, working, making dreams to run toward; the poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine.

When you give someone your whole heart and he doesn’t want it, you cannot take it back. It’s gone forever.

I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.

Only I wasn’t steering anything, not even myself.

Every day is precious and I feel infinitely sad at this time melting away from me.

Everything in life is writable.

I woke to the sound of rain.

I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.

I like people too much or not at all. I’ve got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.

It is awful to want to go away and to want to go nowhere.

I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.

I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery – air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, This is what it is to be happy.

Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.

When hope is in your bones, the happiness in your heart will never be alone.

The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones.

Love isn’t always about flowers and happy endings, sometimes its about letting go with love screaming in your bones.

In a shared fish, there are no bones.

Kill all the men you have slept with. Put the bones in a box and send it into the sea with flowers.

Baseball players need strength but also the ability to make fast-paced, explosive movements, so their training is all about strengthening the tendons around the bone and the joint so you don’t tear the muscles from the bones.

A person will sometimes devote all his life to the development of one part of his body – the wishbone.

A man strikes you, make him bleed. He makes you bleed, you break his bones. He breaks your bones, kill him. Being hit is inevitable, strike back twice as hard.