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

All sixteen mentioned her jutting ribs, the insubstantiality of her thighs, and one, who went up to the roof with Lux during a warm winter rain, told us how the basins of her collarbones collected water.

Regret, already sogging me down, burst its dam. It seeped into my legs, it pooled in my heart.

In the midst of my skeptical, cynical, often pessimistic nature exists a slender capacity to believe, if only temporarily, in a guiding, unseen power, and whenever this happens, I go with it. That's what inspiration is. You don't get it from the gods. You make it.

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

You don't understand me. I'm a teenager. I've got problems!

The worst thing about religion was religious people.