“If I could tell you what it meant, there would be no point in dancing it”

“Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance”

“The point is, I can’t tell you how to succeed. But I can tell you how not to: Give in to the shame of being rejected and put your manuscript—or painting, song, voice, dance moves, [insert passion here]—in the coffin that is your bedside drawer and close it for good. I guarantee you that it won’t take you anywhere. Or you could do what this writer did: Give in to your obsession instead.”

“I can't even tell you what else I imagined. I can only humiliate myself to such a degree; at a certain point it becomes humorous, and this story is not meant to be humorous. This story is meant to winch your ribs open and tamper with your heart. This story is meant to make you realize that your chances of happiness in this world are terribly slim if you lack a fine imagination.”

“As a kid, Vix had had some warped idea that grownup meant having a job and living on your own. It meant no one could tell you what to eat, or what to wear, or how to behave. It meant that it was okay to have sex with guys. What a joke!”

“If I could build my own neighbors, I’d have no need to build a fence. I would tell you, “I would tell you, but you wouldn’t understand,” but you wouldn’t understand what you wouldn’t understand.”