I miss everyone. I can remember being young and feeling a thing and identifying it as homesickness, and then thinking well now that’s odd, isn’t it, because I was home, all the time. What on earth are we to make of that?

Two young salmon are swimming along one day. As they do, they are passed by a wiser, older fish coming the other way. The wiser fish greets the two as he passes, saying, "Morning boys, how's the water?" The other two continue to swim in silence for a little while, until the first one turns to the other and asks, "What the hell is water?"

I'd like to be the sort of person who can enjoy things at the time, instead of having to go back in my head and enjoy them.

Here is how to handle being a feral prodigy.

This is so American, man: either make something your God and cosmos and then worship it, or else kill it.

I think it's easy to stop smoking; it's just hard not to commit a felony after you stop.

Psychotics, say what you want about them, tend to make the first move.