Apparently even the most awful tragedies, and the people they'd ruined, got a little stale after a while.

To this day, she’s still sad. Because there’s not some finite amount of pain inside us. Our bodies and minds just keep manufacturing more of it. I’m just saying that I took the pain that was inside of her at that moment and made it my own. And it didn’t hurt me at all.

Every minute we were together, I felt like I was wandering in the dark through a strange house, groping for a light switch. And then, whenever I found one and turned it on, the bulb was dead.

It just took some people a little longer than others to realize how few words they needed to get by, how much of life they could negotiate in silence.

I read 'The Great Gatsby' in high school and was hypnotized by the beauty of the sentences and moved by the story about the irrevocability of lost love.

Nothing beats novel writing because it's complete expression of you. You just control everything. Not even a movie director has that level of control.

It just so happened that for most of my life I've lived in the suburbs.