My tunnel vision allows me to have a longer work day than most writers. I'm thankful for that.

No matter what we've done, no matter the disappointments and sullied blunders, today is the opportunity to do right by ourselves.

We have today and hopefully tomorrow to be the best version of ourselves.

I always feel that as the author, once I know what a character is ashamed of, then I can go about making her truthful on the page.

I'm a semi-failed writer, but I'm a capital-F Failed musician.

I just thought it was important that people knew right from the jump that I've got problems. But in all seriousness, that's a huge part of my writing process.

Today is going to be free of the past. Today, the past can't hurt me.

In my life the right question is simply this: What can I do to be happy today?

Self-respect doesn't come naturally to me. I need to constantly remind myself and do the work to err on the side of self-respect, rather than self-punishment.

I struggle with staying clean every day, and what really keeps me from doing something stupid is my daughter.

I want to be the kind of adult that keeps learning. I want to always be open to new experiences.

Long marriages have ended in ruin over tiny and insignificant grievances that were never properly aired and instead grew into a brittle barnacle of hatred.

Super-envious of the fact that Daft Punk can wear robot helmets and be one of the most famous bands in the world, while also understanding that will never be my situation.

There is nothing known as "Perfect". Its only those imperfections which we choose not to see!!

My shorthand answer is that I try to write the kind of book that I would like to read. If I can make it clear and interesting and compelling to me, then I hope maybe it will be for the reader.

But actually, my drug addiction thing, I was so stubborn.

And right now, you two jackwagons are right in the middle of my living room and I'm coming to take out the trash.

Love is giving, marriage is buying and selling. You can't put love into a contract.

New York's the lonesomest place in the world if you don't know anybody.

A heart given to God loses none of its natural tenderness; on the contrary, the more pure and divine it becomes, the more such tenderness increases.

He who improvises can never make a perfect line of poetry.