I first foreswore motherhood when I was about eight years old. ... [Children] were annoying. We were loud and sneaky and broke things. As an eight-year-old, maybe I was simply mortified by the prospect of being saddled with myself.

The existence of other people is essentially awkward.

Notoriety is cheap. It's just easier to get noticed by doing something bad.

The discovery that heartbreak is indeed heartbreaking consoles us about our humanity.

Holocausts do not amaze me. Rapes and child slavery do not amaze me. And Franklin, I know you feel otherwise, but Kevin does not amaze me. I am amazed when I drop a glove in the street and a teenager runs two blocks to return it. I am amazed when a checkout girl flashes me a wide smile with my change, though my own face had been a mask of expedience. Lost wallets posted to their owners, strangers who furnish meticulous directions, neighbors who water each other's houseplants - these things amaze me.

In a country that doesn't discriminate between fame and infamy, the latter presents itself as plainly more achievable.

I have never in all my life considered you other people.