One develops an instinct for letting silence do the heavy lifting. In the three, four, five seconds that passed without either of us speaking, the many ways the conversation could go came and went like time-lapse film of flowers blooming and dying.

Literature is humanity's broad-minded alter-ego, with room in its heart for monsters, even for you. It's humanity without the judgement.

My parents believe in the happy endings to the stories of their children.

The message is clear: By all means become an abomination -- but only while unhinged by grief or wrath.

Every present anger derives from past weakness.

Just because life's meaningless doesn't mean we can't experience it meaningfully.

I'm an American. We're a people diseased with progress.