Now Is The Autumn Of Our Ennui.

Some Stories, You Use Up. Others Use You Up.

There's Still A Thousand Places I Haven't Gone To Die.

They Assume She Was Once Gorgeously Beautiful. Because Now She Looks So—bad.

As The Child Outlives The Father,so Must The Character Bury The Author.

I Suppose It’s Comfort, Perhaps A Sense Of Self-control, Doing Worse Things To Yourself Than The World Will Ever Dare Inflict.