You can tell when something's not moving forward anymore. When the doubts you have about it don't go away.

Novelists are always resisting autobiographical readings of their work, because they know how false those can be.

She could become a spinster, like Emily Dickinson, writing poems full of dashes and brilliance, and never gaining weight.

I wanted to be an actor. My parents were not too keen on that.

The following doodle: a girl with pigtails is bent under the weight of a gigantic boulder. Her cheeks puff out, and her rounded lips expel steam. One widening steam cloud contains the word Pressure, darkly retraced.

The lover`s discourse was of an extreme solitude. The solitude was extreme because it wasn`t physical. It was extreme because you felt it while in the company of the person you loved. It was extreme because it was in your head, the most solitary of places.

It was one of those humid days when the atmosphere gets confused. Sitting on the porch, you could feel it: the air wishing it was water.