The alcohol smell is on my fingers, cold and remote, piercing like a steel pin going in. It smells like white enamel basins. When I look up at the stars in the nighttime, cold and white and sharp, I think they must smell like that.

Another belief of mine; that everyone else my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise.

The problem with meditating is I generally go to sleep, and that's because I'm doing it wrong.

My good intentions are completely lethal.

Writers and books are cheap dates, especially when you compare the cost of a book with a ticket to the opera - or an NHL game.

Some of the old diseases that we think are gone - case in point, measles - are back, now that somebody has spread around, in a very wicked way, the idea that these inoculations were making children autistic. Now we're getting outbreaks that are killing children. The end result is, if you create a population that lacks immunity, and diseases are still there, you're going to get outbreaks and you're going to get death.

Love was like a steamroller. There was no avoiding it; it went over you and you came out flat.