The problem with books is that they end.

I'm the same way about the bookshop. You know, I walk around and I feel the whole world is in there, the most important stories of all time.

Nature is an inherently forward beast; footsteps disappear, past hurts fade.

Coachella is a festival fashion show where people dress up like hippies and pretend that Passion Pit is as good as the Rolling Stones.

Your lips were made for mine, Beck. You are the reason I have a mouth, a heart.

People are so lonely, they spend their birthdays on the Internet, thanking people for wishing them a happy birthday, people who only know it’s their birthday because Facebook told them.

I peeked in the bag. Do you know what was in there? I'll tell you what was in there: a collapsible tray table. Is there any sadder purchase in this fucking world? Maybe a CD of C+C Music Factory's Greatest Hits, but that's about it.

If we were teenagers, I could kiss you. But I’m on a platform behind a counter wearing a name tag and we’re too old to be young.

we’re too old to be young.

... and Lynn is dead inside, like a corpse. She Instagrams methodically, clinically, as if she's gathering evidence for defense, like her entire life is dedicated to proving that she has a life.

It's amazing how good fifty and sunny feels after you've been bleeding in twelve with a windchill of go fuck yourself.

You are a monster, deathly, solipsistic to the bone and you’re blasphemous because all you want is You

The problem with books is that they end. They seduce you.[…]You turn the page and there is nothing.

I don't feel sorry for myself, Beck. Lots of people have shitty parents and roaches in the cabinets and stale, raw Pop-Tarts for dinner and a TV that barely works and a dad who doesn't care when his son doesn't come home during a national disaster. The thing is, I'm lucky. I had the bookstore.

In the cage, you feel loved, not trapped. Just like me.

And [Benji] cheats on you, Beck. A lot. Compulsively. He is in intense pursuit of a performance artist who fucks with his head the way he fucks with yours.

I fold my hands under my head and tell the books all about you. They listen, Beck. I know it sounds crazy, but they do.

We all get our hearts broken. We get fucked up and throw up and we cry and listen to sad songs and say we’re never doing that again. But to be alive is to do it again. To love is to risk everything

There is nothing more terrifying than realizing that the one who knows you best loves you least, pities you even.

Los Angeles is full of places to hide a body, but when the person inside the body doesn’t love you, it’s not an easy thing, turning that breathing person into a dead one.

and if anyone was ever going to live eternally in the light, I think it would be you.

... and you start telling a story about accidentally stealing shoes from an outlet and we've been on the steps for almost twenty minutes and you're so nervous and excited that you keep talking about shoes as if you have to keep talking about shoes or you might jump me right here, on the steps. I chose this spot because my whole fucking life I've walked by these steps and seen couples that make me feel alone, rejected. And now there are loners passing by you and me, jealous, and you're still talking and fuck, it's hard to listen when I can smell your body wash.

What a shame to be so angered by what you don't have that you treat what you do have like it's nothing.

And I will never again underestimate the power of anticipation. There is no better boost in the present than an invitation into the future.

The only thing crueler than a cage sosmall that a bird can’t fly is a cage solarge that a bird thinks it can fly.

Some good shit happens fast (a bestselling book), and some good shit happens slow (love).

But the most important thing I know is that I want the possibility of you more than the reality of [her].