“You search, you break your heart, your back, your brain, and then-and only then-it is handed to you.”

There is no shortage of good days. It is good lives that are hard to come by.

You do not have to sit outside in the dark. If, however, you want to look at the stars, you will find that darkness is necessary. But the stars neither require nor demand it.

We have not yet encountered any god who is as merciful as a man who flicks a beetle over on its feet.

One of the few things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time…give it, give it all, give it now.

People love pretty much the same things best. A writer looking for subjects inquires not after what he loves best, but after what he alone loves at all.

I would like to learn, or remember, how to live.

The universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensible earnest.

You can’t test courage cautiously.

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days.

The real and proper question is: why is it beautiful

It has always been a happy thought to me that the creek runs on all night, new every minute, whether I wish it or know it or care, as a closed book on a shelf continues to whisper to itself its own inexhaustible tale.

Books swept me away, this way and that, one after the other; I made endless vows according to their lights for I believed them.

The dedicated life is worth living. You must give with your whole heart.

We are most deeply asleep at the switch when we fancy we control any switches at all.

The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper; I cannot quite make it out.

Adverbs are a sign that you’ve used the wrong verb.

The more natural the connection, the more devastating the disconnect.

Palm trees-they bend but never break I hope your love grows like this.

If you broke & clownin a millionaire the joke is on you.

She’s a delicate masterpiece. Touching her involves the risk of breaking her pieces.

Today I am broken but tomorrow I will be gentle, I will be kind and i will bloom again.

I taught myself the art of forgetfulness. If they were meant to be remembered, they would have stayed.

This time you are not broke and alone. You have yourself.

Despite all of your mistakes, I stayed – and that was mine.