One has so many more opinions about what has gone wrong than about what is perfect.

I'm simply pointing out that what happens to us isn't the whole story. That I continue to exist even when we're not together.

In other words, it's one of those books you thrust on your partner with an incredulous cry of "This is me!

Several months later, and I have finally read one of the three (books), even though I wanted to read all three of them immediately. What happened in between? Other books, is what happened. Other books, other moods, other obligations, other appetites, other reading journeys.

There isn't so much to be afraid of, out there. I can remember thinking it was funny to find that out, on the last night of my life; I'd spent the rest of it being afraid of everything.

Surely we all occasionally buy books because of a daydream we're having - a little fantasy about the people we might turn into one day, when our lives are different, quieter, more introspective, and when all the urgent reading, whatever that might be, has been done. We never arrive at that point, needless to say.

Definitely avoid going out with ugly girls who say they want to be models. Not because they're ugly, but because they're mad".