Nothing ever happens like you imagine it will. But then again, if you don't imagine, nothing ever happens at all

Writing is a profession for introverts who want to tell you a story but don't want to make eye contact while doing it.

Such is life. We grow up. Planets like Tiny get new moons. Moons like me get new planets.

All I know of heaven and all I know of death is in this park: an elegant universe in ceaseless motion, teeming with ruined ruins and screaming children.

There comes a time when we realize that our parents cannot save themselves or save us, that everyone who wades through time eventually gets dragged out to sea by the undertow- that, in short, we are all going.

We are not as frail as the strings would make us believe.

The oblivion fear is something else, fear that I won't be able to give anything in exchange for my life. If you don't live a life in service of a greater good, you've gotta at least die a death in service of a greater good, you know? And I fear that I won't get either a life or a death that means anything.

Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia. (...) You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.

It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world.