Most times, it's just a lot easier not to let the world know what's wrong.

History is nothing except monsters or victims. Or witnesses.

We all want to explain ourselves. Nobody wants to be forgotten.

Alternating the thoughtful task of writing with the mindless work of laundry or dish washing will give you the breaks you need for new ideas and insights to occur. If you don't know what comes next in the story... clean your toilet. Change the bed sheets. For Christ sakes, dust the computer. A better idea will come.

We went sailing one time, and he wore a Speedo, and any smart woman should know that means bisexual at least.

I think in a way, you're doomed, once you can envision something. You're sort of doomed to make it happen. I've found that the moment I can envision leaving a relationship, that's usually the moment that the relationship starts to fall apart.

I'm always identifying some fallacy in my own life. I'm sort of making fun of myself by exploring and unpacking just why I'm sort of automatically thrown to be a certain way.