Jump way back to one time, Evie and me did this fashion shoot in a junk yard, in a slaughterhouse, in a mortuary. We'd go anywhere to look good by comparison, and what I realize is mostly what I hate about Evie is the fact that she's so vain and stupid and needy. But what I hate most is how she's just like me. What I really hate is me so I hate pretty much everybody.

People take conventional ways that other people have always decorated their cars, and use them as ways of giving other people permission to approach them.

The amazing miracle of death, when one second you're walking and talking, and the next second you're an object.

History is nothing except monsters or victims. Or witnesses.

The short stories tend to be a journalistic gathering of anecdotes that are put together to make something larger.

There's an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It's when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger. Nothing is ever familiar.

I am an invisible monster, and I am incapable of loving anybody. You don't know which is worse.