Necessity used to be the mother of invention, but then we ran out of things that were necessary. The postmodern mother of invention is desire; we don’t really “need” anything new, so we only create what we want.

I want fake love. But that's all I want, and that's why I can't have it.

The message of "The Winner Takes It All" is straightforward: It argues that the concept of relationships ending on mutual terms is an emotional fallacy. One person is inevitably okay and the other is inevitably devastated.

We all believe that we are a certain kind of person, but we never know until we do something that proves otherwise, or until we die.

People who are wrong during particularly important moments inevitably spend the rest of their lives trying to explain how their wrongness was paradoxically correct, or-at the very least-why their wrongness "felt right at the time," which is very, very different from being authentically correct.

Book writing is a little different because, in my case, my editor is a year younger than me and basically has the same sensibility as me.

Seeing no resolution to my existential recognition of loss, I decide to eat lunch.