Books

"It didn’t look like a key. It was just a little bent piece of metal and though I tried it on my own wrist a few times and it worked, the thought of being handcuffed to the bedposts in this yellow house scared me, even if the people who owned it edited radical books."

"You will find this, perhaps, an over-intellectualization of the event. Indeed, but this was what I was trained to do. This, and pliés."

"At the end of every sexual relationship I never cry because I save my tears for shit like dog food commercials and reality television singing competitions, but I always want to because “that dude seemed cool with all my weird moles and dark fleshy patches and holy shit I can never show this wretched body to anyone ever again.”"

"There are terrible things that never get easier, and there are things even more terrible that get easier with time and repetition."

I looked at her and I could see she was reading me, seeing how the conversation with Jim had gone, getting everything she needed to know—the words were just her playing for time. Since meeting Tyler I’d believed that a psychic connection between human beings was possible. ‘Kinship’ is the best word in English for it. The French call it une affinité profonde, which I also like it but it still doesn’t quite get there. It’s that doppelgänger effect that can go either way: to mutual understanding or mutual destruction.