% of what you understand in a conversation is read through the body, not the words.
The last few weeks, it was as if someone had taken his life to pieces and let him see the way it worked.
I wish I had a boyfriend. I wish he lived in the wardrobe on a coat hanger. Whenever I wanted, I could get him out and he'd look at me the way boys do in films, as if I'm beautiful.
It was strange how words meant something when they came out of your mouth. Inside your head they were safe and silent, but once they were outside, people grabbed hold of them.
All I know is that I have two choices – stay wrapped in blankets and get on with dying, or get the list back together and get on with living.
I want to die in my own way. It's my illness, my death, my choice. This is what saying yes means.
I'm me and you're you, and all of them out there are them. And we're all so different and equally unimportant.
You forget why you're fighting - you can lose sight of why you're doing it all.
People should fall in love with their eyes closed.
I think there are universal principles that we should want to understand, but that are not necessarily good for us. We could recognise universal propensities which current cultures can't fully eradicate, which we would want to eradicate if we could. Let's say, a tendency for tribal violence. Or racism.
I'm not into looking crisp. That's not how I dress or who I am.