“Smoking had become my favorite thing in the world to do. It was like having instant comfort, no matter where or when.”

“Hadn't one of my all-time favorite reveries been to become a cranky hermit, live unperturbed in my house, and have things brought to me like a monarch or tribal lord?”

“My least favorite thing was a man who had severe white-man's ass, where the jeans just bagged over the butt. I wanted something to hold on to, something to sink my teeth into. When I said I liked meat on my men I didn't just mean one thing.”

“When I sit near you, my hands suddenly become alien things and I don't know where to put them or what they usually do, like this is the first time I've ever had hands and maybe they go in my pockets and maybe they don't.”

“I generally don’t care what we watch because we can be like this, snuggled together in his room, which is my favorite thing in the world to do.”

“I do feel like I have important, beautiful things to say about the world, I just can't think of them at this particular instant.”