“You made my world feel infinitely bigger simply by being In it.”

We are all just wanting bones and stardust skin trying to find our way home.

We will always be an open ending, a beautiful perhaps.

I am sad about the things I did to make you want me.

She built her castle at rock bottom.

I am terrified that I am destined for almost.

I am messy when I am in pain.

I dream of all the places we never made it to.

There is something extraordinary in this space between our skin.

In another life, you kept your word, and forever’s still ours for the taking.

I am not proud of the things I did when I was hurting.

How can I be homesick for a life I haven’t lived?

You were a beautiful chapter, but not my last.

It was an adventure, wasn’t it? You and I.

Mortgages, marriage, and kids are not life’s only meaningful milestones.

She had a smile that took me to church every damn night.

How sad it is that you have become something I need to recover from.

It’s nice to have more time to work on the character, and to have big scenes to play. But if there’s something playable there, and if it’s interesting to do, then that’s nice.

The ego is kind of a big, unwieldy thing. It’s not so easily tamed or subdued.

You believe in God, then you don’t believe anymore and when you have a big problem, you pray anyway.

Isn’t there a simpler way of not pissing off the big vipers?

Yet often, they know but just don’t care. So the task of serious journalism isn’t just to lay out truths. It is to make vital truths compelling to a big audience.

That’s a big part of my life – doing things that I’m not prepared to do.

I dated Siamese twins, I slept with Big Foot, too. Get me on Sally Jesse, put me on Donahue.

I know there’s a big bad world out there, but I rarely come across it.