… It is not healing to see your childhood home, but it helps you measure whether you are broken, and how and why, assuming you want to know.

A census taker tried to quantify me once. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a big Amarone. Go back to school, little Starling.

You know how cats do. They hide to die. Dogs come home.

Gratitude’s got a short half-life, Clarice.

It rubs the lotion on its skin. It does this whenever it is told.

Writing novels is the hardest thing I've ever done, including digging irrigation ditches.

I expect most psychiatrists have a patient or two they'd like to refer to me.