“And besides, I like to cry. After I cry hard it's like it's morning again and I'm starting the day over.”

“I feel like I might start crying and that I'm going to cry pee.”

“It's lonely to say goodbye. Very lonely. Please. Cry with me. Maybe there's nothing we can do about this. But at least, for now...cry with me. Like your entire body...is screaming at the sky. Like it's raging against the world. I lost something. And I don't have a single guarantee. The fear of living in this world again after that...I have only a shred of hope to sustain me. So I want you at least...to cry. Cry. Cry with me. Like the day you were first born into this world.”

“I started to cry then, and I cried for a long time without making much noise. I cried and cried like a little kid.”

“It's all like an ocean!" cried Dostoevski. I say it's all like cellophane.”

“I still cry on waking. I'm not sure why. I feel nothing. Nothing I can name, anyway. It's like breathing - something that happens over which I have no control. (6)”