One of the odd things about being a writer is that you never reach a point of certainty, a point of mastery where you can say, Right. Now I understand how this is done.

The only love that feels like love is the doomed kind. (Fun fact.)

The reason to have a home is to keep certain people in and everyone else out.

My plan was to never get married. I was going to be an art monster instead.

To live in a city is to be forever flinching.

I had thought loving two people so much would straighten it.

When God is a father, he is said to be elsewhere. When God is a mother, she is said to be everywhere.