Though it may be more romantic to picture the bereaved as gaunt, I imagine you can grieve as efficiently with chocolates as with tap water.

Change is like that: you are no longer where you were; you are not yet where you will get; you are nowhere exactly.

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

...some people coddle their own afflictions the way others spoil small pedigreed dogs with cans of pate.

It's an apathy so absolute that it's like a hole you might fall in.

[Children] would have messed up my apartment. In the main, they are ungrateful. They would have siphoned too much time away from the writing of my precious books.

The secret is that there is no secret.