For a long time, I thought I would like to be a doctor. Such a good profession. So explicitly good. Never a waste of time.

What? she said once to herself, and then once aloud, What? She felt a total displacement, like a spinning globe brought to a sudden halt by the light touch of a finger. How did she end up here, like this? How could there have been so much - so many moments, so many people and things, so many razors and pillows, timepieces and subtle coffins - without her being aware? How did her life live itself without her?

People shouldn't be allowed to get married until it's too late to have kids.

Memories are small prayers to God, if we believed in that sort of thing.

It would be refreshing to have a politician try to defend guns without any reference to the Second Amendment, but on the merits of guns.

It is unrealistic to think you can have an inflexible identity that never has to give or take or make compromises.

I thought about all of the things that everyone ever says to each other, and how everyone is going to die, whether it's in a millisecond, or days, or months, or 76.5 years, if you were just born. Everything that's born has to die, which means our lives are like skyscrapers. The smoke rises at different speeds, but they're all on fire, and we're all trapped.