Much as I try to disguise myself, there is never a time when I'm not aware of being overweight.

There's something stubborn about families, unhappy ones in particular: they outlive themselves, and then they live on.

I always look to people and think whether they seem well-loved or not well-loved. That's one way I walk through life. Do they have some core that withstands the ravages? Everyone gets pulled down in life and has good moments. But it always interests me how people withstand things.

It was through reading that I discovered the crucial, even sacrosanct place the rituals of drinking held in the American imagination - the ingenious way alcohol seemed to lubricate everything from onerous chitchat to self-conscious sexual advances.

My mother is the source of my unease in the world and thus the only person who can make me feel at home in the world.

Everything felt fragile and freshly come upon, but for now, at least, my depression had stepped back, giving me room to move forward. I had forgotten what it was like to be without it, and for a moment I floundered, wondering how I would recognize myself. I knew for certain it would return, sneaking up on me when I wasn’t looking, but meanwhile there were bound to be glimpses of light if only I stayed around and held fast to the long perspective. It was a chance that seemed worth taking.

No bill of sexual rights can hold its own against the lawless, untamable landscape of the erotic imagination.