I sit quietly and think about my mom. It's funny how memory erodes, If all I had to work from were my childhood memories, my knowledge of my mother would be faded and soft, with a few sharp memories s...
Time is priceless, but it’s Free. You can't own it, you can use it. You can spend it. But you can't keep it. Once you've lost it you can never get it back.
When the woman you live with is an artist, every day is a surprise.
…she smiles in an exhausted but warm sort of way, as though she is a brilliant sun in some other galaxy
How delicately language skirts the issue. How meaningless it is.
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.
I feel like a pink worm in the core of this green room, as though I have eaten my way in and should be working on becoming a butterfly, or something. I’m not real awake, here, at the moment. I hear so...
I feel moderately bad about this whole thing. On the one hand, I am providing myself with urgently required survival skills. Other lessons in this series include Shoplifting, Beating People Up, Pickin...
I can appreciate that, says Henry. He’s adding to the list. I look over his shoulder. Sex Pistols, the Clash, Gang of Four, Buzzcocks, Dead Kennedys, X, the Mekons, the Raincoats, the Dead Boys, New O...
I wish for a moment that time would lift me out of this day, and into some more benign one. But then I feel guilty for wanting to avoid the sadness; dead people need us to remember them, even if it ea...
When somebody is that patient, you have to feel grateful, and then you want to hurt them. Does that make any sense?
Time is nothing - Henry's Letter to Claire
I don't know about you, but I'm kind of fed up with realism. After all, there's enough reality already; why make more of it? Why not leave realism for the memoirs of drug addicts, the histories of sal...
Clare is silent. Her pragmatism and her romantic feelings about Jesus and Mary are, at thirteen, almost equally balanced. A year ago she would have said God without hesitation. In ten years she will v...
Clare on Henry:Do you ever wonder if I'm real? Maybe I'm dreaming of you. Maybe you're dreaming of me; maybe we only exist in each other's dreams and every morning when we wake up we forget all about...
Clare seems so pleased with the idea of me as a pirate that she forgets that I am Stranger Danger.
Clare snores, quiet animal snores that feel like bulldozers running through my head. I want my own bed, in my own apartment. Home sweet home. No place like home. Take me home, country roads. Home is w...
She's going to break my heart and I'm going to let her.
Clock time is our bank manager, tax collector, police inspector; this inner time is our wife.
«Io vorrei Dio. Si può?»Mi sento come un cretino. «Certo che si può. È quello che credi tu.»«Però io non voglio soltanto crederci. Voglio che sia vero.»
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