If we do not begin to practice the muscles of having a possessive investment in each other's oppressions, then we are in some serious trouble.

You whispered my full name and we fell asleep in each other's arms and I remember how the next morning you were gone, completely gone, and nothing in my bed or the house could have proven otherwise.

It's just a matter of willpower. The day you decide it's over, it's over. You never get over it.

We know story collections end when they end, as well - the pages serving as a countdown - but nevertheless the standard story anthology hews closer to what makes being human so hard: it reminds you with each story how quickly everything we are, everything we call our lives can change, can be upended, can disappear. Never to return.

Honestly, connecting once at the deepest level with someone, you know, once you've done that, even if your life goes to hell, man, it was really worth living.

We all have a blind spot and it's shaped exactly like us.

The world should always be concerned whenever a vast human rights violation occurs anywhere on the planet.