“The world may be broken, but hope is not crazy.”

We all use the future to escape the present.

We’re as likely to hurt the universe as we are to help it, and we’re not likely to do either.

What is the point of being alive if you don’t at least try to do something remarkable?

Our lives are composed of a finite set of moments that we choose how to spend.

The urge to make art or contemplate philosophy does not go away when you are sick. Those urges just become transfigured by illness.

We’re all just facilitators. The real business is done by readers.

The human tongue is like wasabi: it’s very powerful, and should be used sparingly.

You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect.

He liked the mere act of reading, the magic of turning scratches on a page into words inside his head.

We just did an awesome job of not dying.

Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than about the stories and people we’re quoting.

Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.

I don’t think your missing pieces ever fit inside you again once they go missing.

I’m not saying that everything is survivable. Just that everything except the last thing is.

You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect.

He liked the mere act of reading, the magic of turning scratches on a page into words inside his head.

My moral compass is so broken I can barely find the parking lot.

Don’t tell me peace has broken out.

The great question in life is the suffering we cause, and the most ingenious metaphysics do not justify the man who has broken the heart that loved him.

Wholeness is the enemy of the artist. We ought to be broken, ruined in some way.

The Boskin Commission… was an act of cowardice. Rather than man up and say fix this, its broken, we can’t afford it.

I have no urns, no dusty monuments; No broken images of ancestors, Wanting an ear, or nose; no forged tales Of long descents, to boast false honors from.

Physical pain is a fact that comes with living, just as illness or financial woes or broken relationships are facts. But misery is a state of mind, a reaction to the facts, that can be controlled or altered by an act of will.

The worst part is staying in the room after you’ve broken the news, so that you’re forced to be there when someone’s life disintegrates around them. Some people say it doesn’t bother them – such people are not to be trusted.