I hate, simply, to work. I just hate to work, period. I am profoundly slothful. Practically inert.

Now people need special costumes to ride bicycles. I mean, a helmet, what, are you an astronaut??

Until I was about 7, I thought books were just there, like trees. When I learned that people actually wrote them, I wanted to, too, because all children aspire to inhuman feats like flying. Most people grow up to realize they can't fly. Writers are people who don't grow up to realize they can't be God.

Notoriously insensitive to subtle shifts in mood, children will persist in discussing the color of a recently sighted cement-mixer long after one's own interest in the topic has waned.

I'm very lazy, I hate to work.

I always make a big effort to make a distinction between what is actually worse or what is just worse about not being 21. Of course, it's much worse not to be 21. This is a given. But there are things that are worse.

Generally speaking, it is inhumane to detain a fleeting insight.