I usually write away from home, in coffee shops, on trains, on planes, in friends’ houses. I like places where there’s stuff going on that you can lift your eyes, see something interesting, overhear a conversation.

Fiction works when it makes a reader feel something strongly.

How beautiful is forgetting! What relief it would be for the world to lose some of its contents.

She extended a hand that I didn't know how to take, so I broke its fingers with my silence.

Ninety-eight percent of all the soy that's raised goes to livestock. So people make fun of vegetarians for being tofu eaters, but no one eats tofu like steak eaters, by a long shot. It's also funny that tofu is held up as what a vegetarian eats. I mean maybe I eat tofu once a month, but other than that, never. All of it, statistically speaking, is going to livestock.

Only now do I understand the war against boredom, the lost cause of empty hours, of empty days and nights.

It broke my heart into more pieces than my heart was made of, why can't people say what they mean at the time?