If some people are “outed,” are other people “inned”? Can we say that someone has been “besided” or “overed”?
Real love amounts to withholding the truth, even when you’re offered the perfect opportunity to hurt someone’s feelings.
I started writing when I was twenty, and my first book came out seventeen years later.
Most people, or at least most of the people that I’ve come into contact with, would like to be written about.
What other people call dark and despairing, I call funny.
I think it’s good to have the alone time. Well, I kind of have to, because I have to be alone in order to work, so I have alone time. And then I go on tour and I have being-around-people time.
Like all of my friends, she’s a lousy judge of character.
At the end of a miserable day, instead of grieving my virtual nothing, I can always look at my loaded wastepaper basket and tell myself that if I failed, at least I took a few trees down with me.
Some friendships are formed by a commonality of interests and ideas: you both love judo or camping or making your own sausage. Other friendships are forged in alliance against a common enemy.
I just looked at the pattern of my life, decided I didn’t like it, and changed.
Everyone looks retarded once you set your mind to it.
I haven’t got the slightest idea how to change people, but still I keep a long list of prospective candidates just in case I should ever figure it out.
Their house had real hardcover books in it, and you often saw them lying open on the sofa, the words still warm from being read.
The rabbit of Easter. He bring of the chocolate.
I just enjoy lying on the couch and reading a magazine.
As a child I assumed that when I reached adulthood, I would have grown-up thoughts.
It’s odd the things that people remember. Parents will arrange a birthday party, certain it will stick in your mind forever. You’ll have a nice time, then two years later you’ll be like, ‘There was a pony there? Really? And a clown with one leg?’
The only real advice you can give anyone is to keep writing.
Boys who spent their weekends making banana nut muffins did not, as a rule, excel in the art of hand-to-hand combat.
Comfort has its place, but it seems rude to visit another country dressed as if you’ve come to mow its lawns.