When you're in your twenties in a new city where no one's from here, we're all sort of orphans. The only people that you can count on our bunch of people that you work with and that you know. You're only as good as the reliability of that latticework.

I'm interested in the human impact of the giant foot of misplaced government. After all, we encounter it every day.

They were so in love with the world, and so disappointed in every aspect of it.

The house is a factory.

Why do we pursue information that we know will never leave our heads?

Every part of my body felt electric. My chest ached and my head throbbed with the great terrible limitless possibility of the morning, and when it came, the sky was washed white, everything was new, and I hadn't slept at all.

How had this happened? Everyone in the world knew more than us, about everything, and this I hated then found hugely comforting.