I like to reserve the right to write about whatever I like.

I didn't know about the rest of the class, but when Bastille Day eventually rolled around, I planned to stay home and clean my oven.

Most people, or at least most of the people that I've come into contact with, would like to be written about.

I never got the idea of a punishing God, just a really boring one. To see people growing up in the Carolinas who were Baptist, I knew there were others who felt God was going to send them to hell for any little thing, but not me.

Comfort has its place, but it seems rude to visit another country dressed as if you’ve come to mow its lawns.

The fake slap invariably makes contact, adding the elements of shock and betrayal to what had previously been plain old-fashioned fear.

Sometimes I say to myself, 'Oh, I wish I could win a Tony Award', although I'm not that bothered.