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Merriage partners are to serve each other. Elevate, help, teach, strengthen each other, but above all, serve. Raise their children honorably, lovingly, and with detachment. A child is a guest in the house, to be loved and respected - never possessed.

I'm a kind of paranoiac in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy.

Folk har sine egne grunner til å dø. Det kan se enkelt ut, men er det aldri. Det er akkurat som en rot. Det som syns over bakken, er bare en liten del av den. Men hvis du begynner å trekke, kommer det opp mer og mer. Menneskesinnet har tilhold dypt i mørket. Bare vedkommende selv vet den egentlige grunnen, og kanskje ikke det engang.

Utmattelse skjeler ikke til alder eller skjønnhet. I så måte er den lik regn og jordskjelv og hagl og oversvømmelser.

Don’t pointless things have a place, too, in this far-from-perfect world? Remove everything pointless from an imperfect life, and it’d lose even its imperfection.

they haven’t come for me yet with their badges and their rules and their numb ears. oh, them and their caprice! like the fox I run with the hunted and if I’m not the happiest man on earth I’m surely the luckiest man alive.

"Well, if Sven dreamed tonight that his dog died, he'd have a very, very bad night's sleep, because he's very fond of that dog. But when he woke up in the morning, everything would be all right. He'd know it was only a dream." Nicholson nodded. "What's the point exactly?" "The point is if his dog really died, it would be exactly the same thing. Only he wouldn't wake up till he died himself."

Imagine four years. Four years, two suicides, one death, one rape, two pregnancies (one abortion), three overdoses, countless drunken antics, pantsings, spilled food, theft, fights, broken limbs, turf wars–every day, a turf war–six months until graduation and no one gets a medal when they get out. But everything you do here counts. High school.

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, with such name as 'Nevermore'. But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather the he fluttered- Till I scarcely more than muttered, 'other friends have flown before- On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before'. Then the bird said, 'Nevermore'.

I was a child and she was a child , In this kingdom by the sea ; But we loved with a love that was more than love - I and my Annabel Lee

I saw it, in my head, as the mask of the whiskey gentry - a pretentious mix of booze, failed dreams, and a terminal identity crisis; the inevitable result of too much inbreeding in a closed and ignorant culture.

And unlike most of the others in the press box, we didn't give a hoot in hell what was happening on the track. We had come to watch the real beasts perform.

Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.

It was that kind of a crazy afternoon, terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road.

He hated it when you called him a moron. All morons hate it when you call them a moron.

Just because they're crazy about themself, they think you're crazy about them, too, and that you're just dying to do them a favor. It's sort of funny, in a way.

What I really felt like, though, was committing suicide. I felt like jumping out the window. I probably would’ve done it, too, if I’d been sure somebody’d cover me up as soon as I landed. I didn’t want a bunch of stupid rubbernecks looking at me when I was all gory.

I was only thirteen, and they were going to have me psychoanalyzed and all, because I broke all the windows in the garage. I don't blame them. I really don't. I slept in the garage the night he died, and I broke all the goddam windows with my fist, just for the hell of it. I even tried to break all the windows on the station wagon we had that summer, but my hand was already broken and everything by that time, and I couldn't do it. It was a very stupid thing to do, I'll admit, but I hardly didn't even know I was doing it, and you didn't know Allie.

I'm pretty sure he yelled "Good luck!" at me. I hope not. I hope to hell not. I'd never yell "Good luck!" at anybody. It sounds terrible, when you think about it.

What I was really hanging around for, I was trying to feel some kind of good-by. I mean I've left schools and places I didn't even know I was leaving them. I hate that. I don't care if it's a sad good-by or a bad good-by, but when I leave a place I like to know I'm leaving it. If you don't, you feel even worse.