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It’s just that most really good-looking people are stupid, so I exceed expectations.’ ‘Right, it’s primarily his hotness,’ I said. ‘It can be sort of blinding,’ he said. ‘It actually did blind our friend Isaac,’ I said. ‘Terrible tragedy, that. But can I help my own deadly beauty?’ ‘You cannot.’ ‘It is my burden, this beautiful face.’ ‘Not to mention your body.’ ‘Seriously, don’t even…
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I believe the universe wants to be noticed. I think the universe is inprobably biased toward the consciousness, that it rewards intelligence in part because the universe enjoys its elegance being observed. And who am I, living in the middle of history, to tell the universe that it-or my observation of it-is temporary?
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It always shocked me when I realized that I wasn’t the only person in the world who thought and felt such strange and awful things.
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Some infinities are bigger than other infinities.
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Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book. And then there are books like An Imperial Affliction, which you can’t tell people about, books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like…
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I’m a grenade and at some point I’m going to blow up and I would like to minimize the casualties, okay?
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Some people have lives; some people have music.
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Without pain, how could we know joy?’ This is an old argument in the field of thinking about suffering and its stupidity and lack of sophistication could be plumbed for centuries but suffice it to say that the existence of broccoli does not, in any way, affect the taste of chocolate.
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Books are the ultimate Dumpees: put them down and they’ll wait for you forever; pay attention to them and they always love you back.
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And then something invisible snapped insider her, and that which had come together commenced to fall apart.
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When I look at my room, I see a girl who loves books.
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What is the point of being alive if you don’t at least try to do something remarkable?
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Books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.
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I’m not saying that everything is survivable. Just that everything except the last thing is.
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You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world…but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices.
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