Part of me believes that love is more valuable when you have to work for it.
I think people might think, oh, I don’t want to approach the big famous author because it’s embarrassing, but then they think for two seconds about it and realize, this is, like, a toilet bowl reader.
Imperfections are attractive when their owners are happy with them.
And I began to let him go. Hour by hour. Days into months. It was a physical sensation, like letting out the string of a kite. Except that the string was coming from my center.
Although I was able to maintain a pleasant expression, I was mentally throwing up in her face.
New York City is a place where you can lock yourself up in your little studio apartment, and not go outside at all, and not feel in the slightest guilty about it.
His laugh is made if porch swings and lemonade.
But she did love him. I believe it. I know exactly how that is. To love somebody who doesn’t deserve it. Because they are all you have. Because any attention is better than no attention.
I never question the way I write. Writing is the only thing that’s without seams for me. It’s an effort to talk because my pictures have to be turned into these sounds. It’s an effort to be alive. It’s work. But writing is wonderful.
I was learning that if I lived slightly in the future-what will happen next-I didn’t have to feel so much about what was going on in the present.
What nobody understood then is this: The only way that you achieve what you want and fulfill your dreams and become great is by demanding that sort of attention. You have to make it happen.
When you have your health, you have everything. When you do not have your health, nothing else matters at all.
I knew that he was as reliable as a mathematical formula.
When I ate vanilla frosting straight from the can, I could feel God standing right nest to me like a real best friend, watching, and smiling, and wishing he had a mouth.
The line between normal and crazy seemed impossibly thin. A person would have to be an expert tightrope walker in order not to fall.
My window fogs and this makes me feel like there is no world outside of the car.
A lot of being a writer doesn’t have anything to do with writing. It’s ironic – I have to squeeze the books in, even though that’s what it’s all about.
The problem with not having anybody to tell you what to do, I understood, is that there was nobody to tell you what not to do.
My attraction had been immediate and profound. And it had nothing to do with the way he looked. My attraction was to what resided between his lines.
I thought, I can’t do advertising any more, so I was downloading all these PDF applications from community colleges. And I thought, I’ll become a paramedic. I’ll get a two-year associate degree, if I can get in.