The whole exploitation thing is funny, too. Exploitation is the nature of the world, isn't it?

We like something because someone else liked it.

I'm sure we're going to find out one day that the brain is as worthless as the appendix.

I have no interest in being a trained ballerina. People should dance how they want to dance. I want to be the funky chicken.

Everybody is so sure about everything these days. Just look at your horrible Facebook feed on the most recent tragedy that people are commenting on.

I just realized that I never look at a painting and ask, 'Is this painting fictional or non-fictional?' It’s just a painting.

In memoir, can you really tell the truth about yourself? You're not going to write about your little peccadilloes, like, "I like a finger in my ass during sex." Or whatever it is. You're not going to come out in typical everyday conversation and say that. That's something that's going to be only for a select few.