It’s hard, in America, not to equate ‘happiness’ with ‘things’.

Juliet and Romeo be damned, you can't be in love until you've flossed your teeth next to the person at least three hundred times.

What you tend to find in the personal lives of brilliant men is devastation akin to a nuclear bomb going off.

It's a common feeling for people to feel intermittent antipathy toward individuals they're familiar with.

Like that lightning that comes out of the blue when there's not even a storm going on, just a crazy crack in the sky. With something like that right in front of you, you can't help but feel there's new possibilities out there.

We're living longer, we social network alone with our screens, and our depth of feeling gets shallower. Soon it'll be nothing but a tide pool, then a thimble of water, then a micro drop.

I hate how the people who really get you are the ones you can never hold on to for very long. And the ones who don’t understand you at all stick around.