I think whenever we think of our hometowns, we tend to think of very specific people: with whom you rode on the school bus, who was your next door neighbor you were playing with, who your girlfriend was. It's always something very specific.

Strange: how when a light is extinguished, it's immediately as if it has never been. Darkness fills in again, complete.

The cleaning is something I use as a reward if I get some work done. I go into a very happy state of mind when I'm vacuuming.

It feels good, honey, but it isn't love.

Her wish to die was as pervasive as a dial tone: you lift the receiver, it's always there.

Ambitious, absorbing, and poignantly moving.

Evil isn't a cosmological riddle, only just selfish human behavior.