I seem to remember even from when I was very young that when you loved someone you also hated them for making you love them, since loving someone is so incredibly humiliating.

Not that happiness is dull. Only that it doesn't tell well. And of our consuming diversions as we age is to recite, not only to others but to ourselves, our own story.

Everything people do that doesn’t work has to be somebody else’s fault. Next time you know, geezers’ll be suing the government for getting old and kids’ll be taking their mommies to court because they came out ugly.

Only a country that feels invulnerable can afford political turmoil as entertainment.

My own apathy is bone chilling.

Funny how the nature of a normal day is the first memory to fade.

It's far less important to me to be liked these days than to be understood.