Picture the moment when your mom and dad first saw you as something other than a pretty, tiny version of them. You as them, but improved. Better educated. Innocent. Then picture when you stopped being their dream.

the world is the cradle and your trap.

The feeling is less like an ending than just another starting point.

Now is the autumn of our ennui.

I think it's just a matter of time before everybody realizes that I'm kind of a romance novelist ... that these are all stories about people kind of falling back in love or struggling with relationships. Even Fight Club was just a big romantic ending.

Sex pretty much cures everything.

Besides, it happens fast for some people and slow for some, accidents or gravity, but we all end up mutilated.