I think each family has a funhouse logic all its own, and in that distortion,in that delusion, all behavior can seem both perfectly normal and crazy..

By now, the camouflage had become my skin. My friends wouldn't want to know. Who would want to know? I certainly didn't want to know. All I wanted wa….

When you know you are dying, self-deceptions fly from your bedside like embers off a bonfire..

A tragedy's first act is crowded with supporting players: witnesses crimping their faces, policemen scribbling in pads and making radio calls, EMS gu….

Passion and platonic friendliness, often contrary siblings, frequently wear similar faces to hide the great distance between them..

Everybody wants life to speak to them with special kindness. Every personal story begs to be steered toward reverie, toward some relief from unpleasa….

I'd violated the primary rule of junior and senior high-- don't get people talking about you too much. This was wearing the brightest shirt on the pl….

Things don't go away. They become you..

I've come to see our central nervous system as a kind of vintage switchboard, all thick foam wires and old-fashioned plugs. The circuitry isn't prope….

The cracks in old friendships are measured in awkward pauses..

Sin in the Second City is a masterful history lesson, a harrowing biography, and - best of all - a superfun read. The Everleigh story closely follows….

Regret doesn't budge things; it seems crazy that the force of all that human want can't amend a moment, can't even stir a pebble..

Love wasn't a thing you fell in, but rose to. It was what stopped you from falling..

Sometimes one learns too early, as I did, what the world is capable of..

Diminish the influence of fate.