“I woke up once in the middle of the night, and Buckminster’s paws were on my eyelids. He must have been feeling my nightmares.”

I dreamt four nights ago of clock hands descending from the universe like rain, of the moon as a green eye, of mirrors and insects, of a love that never withdrew. It was not the feeling of completeness that I so needed, but the feeling of not being empty.

I’d rather somebody hate what I do than be indifferent to it.

Also, I designed a pretty fascinating bracelet, where you put a rubber band around your favorite book of poems for a year, and then you take it off and wear it.

I felt shame for living in a nation of unprecedented prosperity-a nation that spends a smaller percentage of income on food than any other civilization has in human history-but in the name of affordability treats the animals it eats with cruelty so extreme it would be illegal if inflicted on a dog.

I put my hand on the doorknob because I thought maybe her hand was on the doorknob on the other side.

Every night before putting her to sleep, Yankel counts her ribs, as if one might have disappeared in the course of the day and become the seed and soil for some new companion to steal her away from him.

I felt suddenly shy. I was not used to shy. I was used to shame. Shyness is when you turn your head away from something you want. Shame is when you turn your head away from something you do not want.

The hardest part of writing is not to get the ideas but to remember, why it is important to get them.

She extended a hand that I didn’t know how to take, so I broke its fingers with my silence.

There are only some many times you can utter “It does not hurt” before it begins to hurt even more than the hurt.

We are lying to ourselves and to each other. Lying about what? I don’t care if we’re lying. I am a bad person. I don’t care. I don’t care what you are.

While it is always possible to wake a person who’s sleeping, no amount of noise will wake a person who is pretending to be asleep.

I hope that one day you will have the experience of doing something you do not understand for someone you love.

You do not have to utter anything you do not want to utter,” I told her, and she said, “Then I would never utter another word again.” “You do not have to do anything that you do not want to do.” “Then I would never do anything again.

When I was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder. Everything moved me. A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much.

There’s nothing wrong with not understanding yourself.

I’m every bourgeois nightmare – a Cockney with intelligence and a million dollars.

Turn your nightmares into your dreams , some dreams don’t turn out the way you want them to , then wake up and turn and turn it around in your favour.

Protect your dreams from your nightmare.

Dreamers must dream on as long as the nightmare wakes them up to greet with a bucketful of reality.

Dreams become a nightmare if you remain in your comfort zone.

All the dreams I dream are nightmares and those nightmares are the ones I live.

Don’t stop dreaming just because you had a nightmare.

The places that ive been, the things that i have seen – what you have as nightmares, are what i have as dreams.