Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts. You need to start somewhere.

To be engrossed by something outside ourselves is a powerful antidote for the rational mind, the mind that so frequently has its head up its own ass.

These are pictures of the people in my family where we look like the most awkward and desperate folk you ever saw, poster children for the human condition.

My idea of everything going smoothly on an airplane is (a) that I not die in a slow-motion fiery crash or get stabbed to death by terrorists and (b) that none of the other passengers try to talk to me. All conversation should end at the moment the wheels leave the ground.

Some people won't go the extra mile, and then on their birthday, when no one makes a fuss, they feel neglected and bitter.

One line of dialogue that rings true reveals character in a way that pages of description can't.

I worry that Jesus drinks himself to sleep when he hears me talk like this.