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

If you don't want anyone to know about your existence, you might as well kill yourself. You're taking up space, air.

It's so easy to print in the Midwest. You're saving months in shipping and customs, so we have started printing a number of books there.

Having lost people when they were young, you feel intimately acquainted with mortality, I guess. Though I procrastinate worse than anybody.

You have what I can afford to give. You are a panhandler, begging for anything, and I am the man walking briskly by, tossing a quarter or so into your paper cup. I can afford to give you this. This does not break me.

I have no idea how people function without near-constant internal chaos. I'd lose my mind.

If you think I'm annoying and preachy now, you should have known me in grade school.