There are no windows within the dark house of depression through which to see others, only mirrors.
That to truly know happiness is to know the fleeting nature of everything, joy, pain, safety and happiness itself.
Surely, she says, encouraging others to lie on our behalves must be a worse sin than lying ourselves.
She was a strange, unsettled planet that had had once sustained life. She was a language that I had thought I almost understood even though I couldn't speak it. She hadn't always been this way. She us...
It was the first time that we had sort of articulated our major problem. She wanted to die and I wanted her to live and we were enemies who loved each other.
Is it wrong to trust in a beautiful lie if it helps you get through life?
If, along the way, something is gained, then something will also be lost.
I think Ray might have wanted a son. One night when I was seven or eight I announced to my family that I wanted to play hockey with the boys on Friday nights and Ray became just a little too eager. Ok...
I learned another thing, which is that just because someone is eating the ashes of your protagonist doesn't mean you stop telling the story.
And I put on All My Love and watched the sun rise yet again and thought thank you Robert Plant for all your love but do you have anymore?
Wild was the worst thing you could become in a community rigged for compliance.
She went sideways through the doorway and her stomach grazed the man’s penis. Then she stopped in the middle, right there between the man and the woman, she didn’t hurry through at all, she was savour...
My dad had said don’t look, but I’d already seen him. Pickled eggs are the Devil’s snack.
Listen, I said, I don't think you understand. I don't want to be presumptuous, but really how could you understand what another person's suicide means? My friend asked the waitress for more coffee. I...
It’s hard to grieve in a town where everything that happens is God’s will. It’s hard to know what to do with your emptiness when you’re not supposed to have emptiness.
It may have been the light at 5:36 on a June evening or it may have been the smell of dust combined with sprinkler water or the sound of the neighbour kid screaming I'll kill you but suddenly it was l...
It bothered me in a kind of Charles Manson way to have a brown smear of blood on my wall but I also liked it because every time I looked at it I was reminded that I was, at that very moment, not bleed...
I stood there, like always, like forever it seemed, in the middle of the road waiting for something or someone to retrieve me, God or a parent or my husband or any of those things or people or ideas o...
I sat on my Dad's bed and flipped through the page after empty page. No stamps. No exotic locales. No travel-worn smudges or creases. Just the ID information and my mother's black and white photo whic...
I find it curious that she hasn't been excommunicated. Are her small acts of rebellion a convenient outlet for Peters, a type of performance that satisfies the colonists' need to assert themselves, an...