Vanity Is A Weakness. I Know This.

Waking, After All, Was An Almost Natal State. You Surfaced Without History, Then Spent The Blinks And Yawns Reassembling Your Past, Shuffling The Shards Into Chronological Order Before Fortifying Yourself For The Present.

I Was Not Going To Use Writing For Advertising Or Journalism. I Would Tend Bar, Load Trucks, Chauffeur - Do Whatever It Took. But From The Moment I Took My First Writing Workshop, I Was A Writer.

What Molds Us Is What Maims Us.

I Won The Parental Lottery. Most Of The Kids I Grew Up With Either Came From Really Fractured Homes, Or Really Violent Ones. I Went Home To A Very Traditional, Good Irish Catholic Family.

He Wanted To Ask Her What Sound A Heart Made When It Broke From Pleasure, When Just The Sight Of Someone Filled You The Way Food, Blood, And Air Never Could, When You Felt As If You'd Been Born For Only One Moment And This, For Whatever Reason, Was It.