Maybe that's why people take pictures of themselves, to avoid being described.

The job of the artist is to point at things.

I wish there were a class where we could just keep going around the circle. around and around, until we had finally said everything about ourselves.

I steeled myself against laughter; I would rather die than laugh. I didn’t laugh, I did not laugh. But I died, I did die.

Things usually make sense in time, and even bad decisions have their own kind of correctness.

... we had once called out hello into the cauldron of the world and then run away before anyone could respond.

I knew the beginning and the end – I just had to dream up a convincing middle.