At the end of a miserable day, instead of grieving my virtual nothing, I can always look at my loaded wastepaper basket and tell myself that if I failed, at least I took a few trees down with me.

Sometimes with 'The New Yorker,' they have grammar rules that just don't feel right in my mouth.

I love things made out of animals. It's just so funny to think of someone saying, 'I need a letter opener. I guess I'll have to kill a deer.

I started writing one afternoon when I was twenty, and ever since then I have written every day. At first I had to force myself. Then it became part of my identity, and I did it without thinking.

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

Do I exaggerate? Boy, do I, and I'd do it more if I could get away with it.

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