Quotes from Nick Miller

Light is always more beautiful when it has to fight to be noticed, like sunlight fighting through the clouds after a rainstorm.

Beauty is not always as perfect as we imagine it to be, but it can be damn close if we learn to accept the scary parts or the ugly parts.

I'm someone who's mostly dead inside but still has a little hope for something extraordinary, which, as I said, is the worst breed of human, because it means I know everything is bullshit, but that I secretly hope for the day when it might not be.

Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was.

I'd begun to grow weary of my constant daydreaming because, as I retreated more often into fantasy, it had become a reminder of my growing discontent with real life. And my thoughts, after very little sleep, seemed to float even further into the realm of the superfluous.

I feel like I'm just passing through life. But then there's this voice in my head telling me to do something, to create something, to make something, and I want to listen to it, but I don't know how. I want to be able to say something, but I have nothing to say. I want something extraordinary, but I'm ordinary in every way—I just read books about other people and browse the lives of my Facebook friends all day.

I know now that truth is a troubling thing. You can't drink your way to it. You can't snort your way to it. You can't fuck your way to it. You can't love your way to it. You can only let it envelop you and try to make sense of it all.

A half-open window. Morning-fresh air carries curious sunlight into a bedroom. Flecks of dust shimmer yellow-gold. Four feet, entwined under white sheets. Joni's Blue, on the player. Delicate curtains slow-dance to Sunday's tune. Laughter. Talk of: what for breakfast? Anything. Anything at all.

Do you really feel that out of place, that lonely? Because I feel that lonely, too. Sometimes I feel like I'm just watching my daily life play out on a giant projection screen, while I'm living my real life in my head, or something. I don't know. If I was in a room with a thousand people, I'd still feel alone.

Every person I have a conversation with now runs a chance of being fictionalized.

Don't eat cheese before talking to cows

Every morning, I felt a little excitement as I checked my email, as if part of me believed there would be an unread message - with a beautiful, boldfaced title - waiting in my inbox that would bring me great news or inject energy into my humdrum routine, or, in the highest of hopes, change the course of my prosaic life.