“But hope is no less realistic than despair. It is still our choice whether to live in light or lie down in darkness.”

“We have just discovered our dear colleague butchered in a hotel room, and you wish to discuss literature?”

“She hated him and loved him, longed for him and loathed him, and cursed herself for feeling anything at all”

“And John Kearns whispered into my ear: "Do you see it now? *You* are the nest. *You* are the hatchling. *You* are the chrysalis. *You* are the progeny. *You* are the rot that falls from the stars. ...”

“I confessed I did not have an opinion; I was only thirteen, and this was my very first dismemberment.”

“Beside me the monstrumologist murmured, "I believe I am in hell, therefore I am there.”

“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of wi...”

“My dear,Find what you love and let it kill you.Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness.Let it kill you and let it devour your remains....”

“If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?”

“Spirituality cannot be an excuse for not making money!!! Just a justification for failure!”

“The end of a relationship is not always a failure. Sometimes all the love in the world is not enough to save something. In these cases, it is not a matter of fault from either person. Some things c...”

“Success and failure will all come to pass like waves, only Nature remains”

“Protesters are still on the fringes like satellites, revolving around the system. But prophets and poets lead us into a new world, beyond simply yelling at the old one.”

“Why do I write? Out of fear. Out of fear that the memory of the people I write about might go lost. Out of fear that the memory of myself might get lost. Or even just to be shielded by a story, to ...”

“They say that it is always poets that die in wars, and I never got over a sense of being in the trenches.”