I noticed that I used to go to second hand shops and flea markets and find funny, cute things, but now I go into those stores, and I think, This is dead people's stuff. This is all, like, somebody cleaned out their parents' house, and I don't want any of it. If I didn't want it from my parents, I don't want it from your parents.

Theres something about most phobias where theres a tiny, tiny corner where you think this really actually could happen.

You would open a drawer, which my father had jammed full of newspapers, and the bottom would drop out. There were buttons and screws and nails and bottle caps and jar lids – the drawer of jar lids! Why? Because they're made of metal and maybe there'll be another war and we'll need the metal. A friend of mine – I quote him in the book – says, 'You have found the source of the river eBay.'

I cannot stand superheroes. I do not understand any of its appeal. It has just bored me to death since I was a little kid.

My life is so boring that your brains are going to melt and come out of your eyes.

I think when you really love something, you notice the minutiae.

It's almost selfishness, taking care of your mental health. You can't just not do it.