I just think some women aren't made to be mothers. And some women aren't made to be daughters.

And if all of us are play-acting, there can be no such thing as a soul mate, because we don't have genuine souls.

The truly frightening flaw in humanity is our capacity for cruelty - we all have it.

There are no really new stories anymore.

I often don't say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.

What a generous thing that is, I realize, for a husband to try to make his wife laugh.

Coffee goes great with sudden death.