“Women complain about premenstrual syndrome, but I think of it as the only time of the month that I can be myself.”

“If ordinary people complain that I speak too much of myself, I complain that they do not even think of themselves.”

“Listen, you," she hissed. "He's gay, he's my son, and I'm premenstrual. So don't—and I mean don't—even think about it." ~ Mom”

“I talk about love, forgiveness, social justice; I rage against American materialism in the name of alturism, but have I even controlled my own heart? The overwhelming majority of time I spend thinking about myself, pleasing myself, reassuring myself, and when I am done there is nothing to spare for the needy. Six billion people live in this world, and I can only muster thoughts for one. Me.”

“And when I think there are people around me who complain they can't find anything good to read. What nonsense ... every month you and I discover a masterpiece.”

“It’s really difficult to talk about dead people, but it’s even harder to talk about dead young women. It’s because from the time they die, they’ll be young forever. On the other hand, for us, the survivors, every year, every month, every day, we get older.Sometimes, I feel like I can feel myself aging from one hour to the next. It’s a terrible thing, but that’s reality.”