Blog — Quotes

In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty.

Because gunshots, lies, and oxtail—or whatever you want to call your god—should say Yes over and over, in cycles, in spirals, with no other reason but to hear itself exist. Because love, at its best, repeats itself. Shouldn’t it?

They say every snowflake is different—but the blizzard, it covers us all the same.

The truest ruins are not written down.

Because freedom, I am told, is nothing but the distance between the hunter and its prey.

I was once foolish enough to believe knowledge would clarify, but some things are so gauzed behind layers of syntax and semantics, behind days and hours, names forgotten, salvaged and shed, that simply knowing the wound exists does nothing to reveal it.