"Without pain, how could we know joy?' This is an old argument in the field of thinking about suffering and its stupidity and lack of sophistication could be plumbed for centuries but suffice it to say that the existence of broccoli does not, in any way, affect the taste of chocolate."
"You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect."
"I hadn’t been in proper school in three years. My parents were my two best friends. My third best friend was an author who did not know I existed."
"Look, let me just say it: He was hot. A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy . . . well."
"You do not immortalize the lost by writing about them. Language buries, but does not resurrect."
"I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you."