I get rational when I panic.

I have written letters that are failures, but I have written few, I think, that are lies. Trying to reach a person means asking the same question over and over again: Is this the truth, or not? I begin this letter to you, then, in the western tradition. If I understand it, the western tradition is: Put your cards on the table.

Wear your heart on the page, and people will read to find out how you solved being alive.

We can only die in the future, I thought; right now we are always alive.

consolation is a beautiful word. everyone skins his knee-that doesnt make yours hurt anyless.

When the beer is gone, so are they -- flexing their cars on up the boulevard.

I want to know everything about you, so I tell you everything about myself.