It's only after you've lost everything that you're truly free to do anything.
It's not true that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. At least, not all of it. Some of your life might flash. Other portions of your life it might take you years and years to recall. Tha...
It's not love or anything, but I think I like you, too.
It's nice to see something more pathetic than I feel right now.
It's eerie, but what's happening is the folks are staring at themselves in the monitor staring at themselves in the monitor staring at themselves in the monitor, on and on, completely trapped in a rea...
It's easy to cry when you realize that everyone you love will reject you or die. (Narrator)
It's amazing what a woman will read into it if you by accident say, I love you. Ten times out of ten, a guy means I love this.
It's a Cinderella story, only at midnight she turns back into a fugitive.
It was just one more predictable mass suicide in a world filled with splinter groups that limp along until they’re confronted.
It turns out, my suitcase was vibrating on departure from Dulles, according to the security task force guy, so the police took it off the flight. Everything was in that bag. My contact lens stuff. One...
It sounds trite, but only because words make everything true sound trite. Because words always screw up what you're trying to say.
It only takes one mistake,' the Dan Banyan guy says, 'and nothing else you ever do will matter.' With his empty hand, he takes one of my hands. His fingers feel hot, fever-hot, and pounding with his h...
It doesn't matter for crap that you've got three years of sobriety or that you finally look good in a two-piece bathing suit or you've met that perfect someone and you've fallen deeply, wildly, passio...
In truth, the degree of anyone's success depends on how often they can say the word yes and hear the word no.
In the outside world, my brother told me, people were as reckless as animals and fornicated with strangers on the street.
In the outside world, he told me, there was no real silence.
In the modern Oedipal story, it's the mother who kills the father and then takes the son.
In a city this size, every year, hundreds of husbands walk away. Kids leave home. Wives escape. People disappear.
Imagine immortality, where even a marriage of fifty years would feel like a one-night stand. Imagine seeing trends and fashions blur past you. Imagine the world more crowded and desperate every centur...
If you’re listening to this, you know that I’m dead.