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There are parts of a man that are born again with each of his daughters.

It ends with a flourish like smashing a glass in the fireplace.

I wanted to be a citizen of the empire called American Express.

On a scale of 1 to 10, the pain dissolves like a Eucharist wafer.

Let me tell you stories about lands far from here where you are absent.

Most days, at the pool, we are able to leave our troubles on land behind.

Favorite character? What a question. It’s like choosing a favorite child.

Dr. Seuss taught me something about the way words can be used.

I usually get my best writing done at night or at the close of day.

I know now not to measure my insides against others’ outsides.

There’s something to stepping right out of your dreams and onto the page.

My grandmother read one of my early stories and warned—don’t force your muse.

In narrative terms, sex is the propeller that moves the story along.

A more typical writing day for me is being constantly interrupted.

I wish I would have become a fiction reader and writer much sooner.

Love’s not all that fun, but it saves you. And you should be saved.

What’s the most useful criticism you’ve received? “Keep writing.”

It helped me free myself from a longtime source of unhappiness.

This is kind of a big, wet valentine, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you throw it out?

Henry Chinaski is just so deplorable and lovable; he makes me laugh.

I’m obsessed with finding a convertible that has enough room.

Some goals: stop buying jeans. Stop being angry at mom/dad/sister.

Gresham’s law. Stupid talk chases smart talk out of circulation.

We spit out the black seeds, bits of night glistening on the grass.

We called for the dead dog because toddlers do not understand death.

That summer we moved to the house you would die in years later.

For today, fuck it, it’s snowing, stay in. Eat your Wheaties dry.

Here is the fat guy whose Chihuahua gnawed through his stomach.