your mind is like an unsafe neighborhood; don't go there alone.

I was like a packet of powdered Sea Monkeys and they were like water.

The most I would do was use the shadow tool in Photoshop to bring out the muscular rips in my stomach, which were honestly there. Beneath the fat.

If I were a serial killer, I would not be the kind that stabs and then eats the victim. I would be the kind that hides in a tree and shoots at the aerobics class.

No matter what I've written, someone somewhere has come up to me and said, "Me too." The truth can be offensive, but it's always nourishing, in a way. You recognize it. You can feel it. And even if [readers] think, "My god, I would never get in those situations," within those ridiculous circumstances that I have created for myself, they know the way I respond is probably what they would do too.

Bad news should be followed with soup. Then a nap.

We were young. We were bored. And the old electroshock therapy machine was just under the stairs in a box next to the Hoover.