. . . They Confuse Everything I

If God Is Everywhere, I Had Concluded, Then He Is In Food. Therefore, The More I Ate The Godlier I Would Become. Impelled By This New Religious Fervor, I Glutted Myself Like A Fanatic.

The Heart Wants What It Wants. There's No Logic To These Things. You Meet Someone And You Fall In Love And That's That.

See, I Never Gain An Ounce, Because, You Know, My Anxiety Acts Like Aerobics.

Pale, Nervous Girls With Black-rimmed Glasses And Blunt-cut Hair Lolled Around On Sofas, Riffling Penguin Classics Provocatively. [...] But It Wasn’t Just Intellectual Experiences—they Were Peddling Emotional Ones, Too. For Fifty Bucks, I Learned, You Could “relate Without Getting Close.” For A Hundred, A Girl Would Lend You Her Bartok Records, Have Dinner, And Then Let You Watch While She Had An Anxiety Attack.

In Order To Be Successful, All You've Got To Do Is Show Up 80 Percent Of The Time.