Marriage is like sharing a root beer float, or agreeing to be the back half of a horse costume. Even when it’s happening onstage, you should only do it with the people you love.
Having a brilliant idea isn’t as easy as turning on a light. But just as a single bulb can illuminate even the most depressing of rooms, the right idea can shed light on a depressing situation.
What happens in a certain place can stain your feelings for it, just as ink can stain a white sheet of paper. You can never forget what transpired in that place just as words in ink can never be unwritten.
In a world too often governed by corruption and arrogance, it can be difficult to stay true to one’s literary and philosophical principles.
If you are interested in stories with happy endings, then you would be better off somewhere else. In this story, not only is there no happy ending, there is no happy beginning, and very few happy things in the middle.
When you’re on top of something, such as a moral threshold or a mountain, there’s nowhere to go but down.
When I was 14, I was crowned False Spring Queen. We had this whole ceremony with my Snow Scout troupe at the top of a mountain. They did a little dance around a pole. It’s where I discovered my love of pole dancing. Then, on the way back down the mountain, we stayed in a cave full of hibernating bears. Which, incidentally, is when I discovered my great love of fur.
There’s no word to describe the feeling of waking up and knowing instantly that something is terribly wrong.
There are times when the entire world seems wrong. The way a reptile room without any reptiles seems wrong. The way a bookshelf without any books seems wrong. Or a loved one’s house without the loved one.
There are countless types of books in this world, which makes good sense because there are countless types of people.