Some stories, you use up. Others use you up.

Unless we have that moment of chaos, followed by the emotional release of realization, nothing will be remembered.

If you take my stuff apart, you'll find my choruses of repetitions are picked up almost verbatim from Kurt Vonnegut, and my distanced fracture quality is all from Amy Hempel, who's probably my favourite writer.

She's not wearing makeup so her face just looks like skin.

I suppose it’s comfort, perhaps a sense of self-control, doing worse things to yourself than the world will ever dare inflict.

The truth is, immigrants tend to be more American than people born here.

To some of us, the nights are too long. To some, the days.