When you catch yourself lying to your therapist, you know it's a waste of money.

Great minds sink alike, right?

The only sensible approach is not to take it too seriously. What counts is the writing.

Sometimes I think everything I touch turns into a Page Six item.

He insisted on a single trade secret: that you had to survive, find some quiet, and work hard every day.

You described the feeling you’d always had of being misplaced, of always standing to one side of yourself, of watching yourself in the world even as you were being in the world, and wondering if this was how everyone felt. That you always believed that other people had a clearer idea of what they were doing, and didn’t worry quite so much about why.

I don't think I've left a trail of weeping women in my wake. I mean, the number of serious relationships I've had has not been into double digits.