At first, writing for The New Yorker was very scary to me. I couldn't imagine anything that I would write in that typeface.

I always knew I wanted it to be illustrated.

The only real advice you can give anyone is to keep writing.

The combination of ammonia and chloride can be lethal but I've discovered it can work miracles as long as you keep telling yourself, "I want to love, I want to live.

I wish that I had re-edited 'Theft By Finding' after I did the audio. Because the audio took 40 hours in the studio, and I was standing on my feet. So toward the end of it I'd be looking at certain diary entries and I would think, "Is this really worth my time to read this out loud?" And I would think, "No, it is not." I would have cut out 75 pages, just because I was tired of standing up.

The thought of killing myself had slowed me down to five miles per hour. The thought of killing someone else stopped me completely.

Sometimes people say, do you want a drink? And I say, oh, I'd like to, but I'm a tragic alcoholic. I always say tragic. I'm a tragic alcoholic.