With my eyes closed, I ask if she knows how this will all turn out. "Long-term or short-term?" she asks. Both. "Long-term," she says, "we're all going to die. Then our bodies will rot. No surprise there. Short-term, we're going to live happily ever after." Really? "Really," she says. "So don't sweat it.

She's so thin she's either dying or rich.

So if you think this is going to save you...If you think anything is going to save you...Please consider this your final warning.

Jump to the day we'll all be dead and none of this will matter. Jump to the day another house will stand here and the people living there won't know we ever happened.

I spend most of my life just listening to people.

I still love him so much I'll hide any amount of conjugated estrogen in his food. So much I'll do anything to destroy him.

People die', she says. 'People tear down houses. But furniture, fine, beautiful furniture, it just goes on and on, surviving everything.' She says, 'Armoires are the cockroaches of our culture.