We have been sitting here all night bullshitting and we still don’t know what to do.

It sometimes seemed to him that for love to work, it had to be fair, that he should tell only half the joke, and she the other half. Otherwise, it would not be love, but something completely else–pity or entertainment, or stand-up comedy.

I think mostly the commodifying comes after I've done something that has some other value to me.

Life, people learned, was not easy. Life was not cake. Life was not a carrot cake.

We have been sitting here all night bullshitting and we still don’t know what to do.

It seems like I'm not [happy]. Because if you look at my tweets and what I think and say, it seems like I'm worried about what's going to happen.

One seemed simply to be here, less an accumulation of moments than a single arrangement continuously gifted from some inaccessible future.