I always think it's a good policy to like the people who like you.

It is funny the things that run through your mind when you're sitting in your underpants in front of a pair of strangers.

Sometimes the sins you haven't committed are all you have left to hold onto.

I can't seem to fathom that the things important to me are not important to other people as well, and so I come off sounding like a missionary, someone whose job it is to convert rather than listen.

There are a lot of college writing textbooks that will include essays and short stories, and after reading the story or essay, there will be questions such as "Have YOU Had any experience with a pedophile in YOUR family?" or "When was the last time you saw YOUR mother drunk?" and they're just really good at prompting stories. You answer the question, and sometimes that can spring into a story.

I was just struggling with my inner vachette and pondering the depths of my own inhumanity.

They were nothing like the French people I had imagined. If anything, they were too kind, too generous and too knowledgable in the fields of plumbing and electricity.