“I look back now with amazement at the small accidents that put certain books before me.”

“Fuck me. I'm so tired of being me. Me beautiful. Me ugly. Blonde. Brunette. A million fucking fashion makeovers that only leave me trapped being me.Who I was before the accident is just a story now. Everything before now, before now, before now, is just a story I carry around. I guess that would apply to anybody in the world. What I need is a new story about who I am.What I need to do is fuck up so bad I can't save myself.”

“[Veda:] 'Sure. Let me put these [books] back and we can go.'Cora looked at the number of volumes on the table and sat back. ‘I should have brought my iPod,’ she said, folding her arms.”

“It’s….my God, it’s amazing,” I whispered as he took my left hand in his.“Can I put it on your finger?” he asked, peering up at me. When I nodded, he pressed his lips together, sliding the silver band over my knuckle, holding it in place for a moment before letting go. “Now it’s amazing.”

“It's amazing how a certain time in your life can seem to be a prelude, but when you look back, you realize it was a whole work, with a beginning, middle, and end.”

“The anarch sticks to facts, not ideas. He suffers not for facts but because of them, and usually through his own fault, as in a traffic accident. Certainly, there are unforeseeable things – maltreatments. However, I believe I have attained a certain degree of self-distancing that allows me to regard this as an accident.”