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

I want an ending that’s satisfying. I’m more of a classical writer than a modernist one in that I want the ending to be coherent and feel like an ending. I don’t like when it just seems to putter out. I mean, life is chaotic enough.

We listened to them, but it was clear they'd received too much therapy to know the truth.

Now all the mute objects of my life seem to tell my story, to stretch back in time, if I look closely enough.

College wasn't like the real world. In the real world people dropped names based on their renown. In college, people dropped names based on their obscurity.

If love were endless, if it were on tap, it wouldn't hit us the way it does. And we certainly wouldn't write about it.

During a warm winter rain ... the basins of her collarbones collected water.