Don't hoard the past. Don't cherish anything. Burn it. The artist is the phoenix who burns to emerge.

She laughed so easily when she was happy. But also when she was sad.

I was tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, men who made you love them then changed their minds.

What was the point in such loneliness among people. At least if you were by yourself, you had a good reason to be lonely.

The Santa Anas blew in hot from the desert, shriveling the last of the spring grass into whiskers of pale straw. Only the oleanders thrived, their delicate poisonous blooms, their dagger green leaves. We could not sleep in the hot dry nights, my mother and I.

I love Derrick Brown for the surprise of one word waking up next to another. One moment tender, funny or romantic, the next, visceral, ironic and relevatory-here is the full chaos of life. An amazing talent.

In our exterior life, we can be only one person. But in our imagination, we can be anyone, anywhere.