The on­ly thing I know is ev­ery­thing you love will die.

I see the strongest and the smartest men who have ever lived... and these men are pumping gas and waiting tables.

Me with nothing left to lose, plotting my big revenge in the spotlight. Give me violent revenge fantasies as a coping mechanism.

I'm really glad that I made a lot of mistakes, poorly chose my friends throughout my twenties, and didn't have a rocket trajectory that set me on one path without making any mistakes or having any setbacks. The older I get, the more I realize that it's all of these failed, horrible things from my past, and the stories that they generated, that are the things I will draw on for the rest of my life.

How everything you ever love will reject you or die. Everything you ever create will be thrown away. Everything you're proud of will end up as trash.

My books are more about people experimenting with different identities and social models in a short-term way before they can break through to something authentic.

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.