When all the details fit in perfectly, something is probably wrong with the story.

[T]he astonishing purity of pain, how it will not be mixed with any other sensation.

What's agitating about solitude is the inner voice telling you that you should be mated to somebody, that solitude is a mistake. The inner voice doesn't care about who you find. It just keeps pestering you, tormenting you.

Because it is the Midwest, no one really glitters because no one has to, it's more of a dull shine, like frequently used silverware.

Everybody should customize their names.

The worst mistakes I've made have been the ones directed by sweet-natured hopefulness.

You know, there's something heartsick about parties like this. Look at us. We're all pretending to be smart, as if intelligence were the cure for our anguish.