“Family is just accident, Jessie. It's nothing personal, hon. They don't mean to get on your nerves. They don't even mean to be your family, they just are.”

“I see it on his face. I hear it when he talks. We look out at the world and we see the same thing: Not Fair. And the only difference between us is Ricky's out there trying to get even. And he knows...”

“Jesus was a suicide, if you ask me.”

“Mama, I know you used to ride the bus. Riding the bus and its hot and bumpy and crowded and too noisy and more than anything in the world you want to get off and the only reason in the world you do...”

“No. You can't. And I can't do anything either, about my life, to change it, make it better, make me feel better about it. Like it better, make it work. But I can stop it. Shut it down, turn it off ...”

“...I only told you about it because I thought I might get a laugh out of you for once even if it wasn't the truth, Jessie. Things don't have to be true to talk about 'em, you know.”

“Our labour preserves us from three great evils -- weariness, vice, and want.”

“Doing nothing is the hardest torture that a person can put himself through. For he is always brought face to face with his own self, which demands that he gives account for the sun which he useless...”

“We just philosophize, complain of boredom, or drink vodka. It's so clear, you see, that if we're to begin living in the present, we must first of all redeem our past and then be done with it foreve...”

“Theres a reason humans peg-out around eighty: prose fatigue. It looks like organ failure or cancer or stroke but its really just the inability to carry on clambering through the assault course of m...”

“EnnuiTea leaves thwart those who court catastrophe,designing futures where nothing will occur:cross the gypsys palm and yawning shewill still predict no perils left to conquer.Jeopardy is jejune no...”

“Some people just live out their whole lives with some sort of ache in their heart they never resolve.”

“July 24, 6:03 A.M.The laundry was warm and the rafters were firm, and Michael Holzapfel jumped from the chair as if it were a cliff...Michael Holzapfel knew what he was doing. He killed himself for...”

“A book is a suicide postponed.”

“How much can you really trust the promise of a suicidal father?”