You love me. You ignore me. You save my life, then you cook my mother into soap.

More than one side? You're Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Jackass!

If you're not drunk and half naked by this point, you're not paying attention.

Language is what books do very well and movement is what movies does very well.

This is the worst problem with living history museums. They always leave the best parts out. Like typhus. And opium. And scarlet letters. Shunning. Witch-burning.

Kids, she says. When they’re little, they believe everything you tell them about the world. As a mother, you’re the world almanac and the encyclopedia and the dictionary and the Bible, all rolled up together. But after they hit some magic age, it’s just the opposite. After that, you’re either a liar or a fool or a villain.

I'm living the life I love, I tell myself, and loving the life I live. I tell myself: I deserved this. This is exactly what I wanted.