“Three in the morning. I realize this second, then this one, then the next: I draw up the balance sheet for each minute. And why all this? Because I was born. It is a special type of sleeplessness that produces the indictment of birth.”

“Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn.”

“Yes, there's one thing I do want. I want to be aware of the minutes and the seconds, and to make each one count.”

“the next morning, fang and i broke up. now let me get this strait, i broke up with him. a split second after he broke up with me.”

“Didn't I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness?”

“The most interesting thing about writing is the way that it obliterates time. Three hours seem like three minutes. Then there is the business of surprise. I never know what is coming next. The phrase that sounds in the head changes when it appears on the page. Then I start probing it with a pen, finding new meanings. Sometimes I burst out laughing at what is happening as I twist and turn sentences. Strange business, all in all. One never gets to the end of it. That’s why I go on, I suppose. To see what the next sentences I write will be.”