Sloane Crosley Quotes
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Our brains are like bonsai trees, growing around our private versions of reality.
Life starts out with everyone clapping when you take a poo and goes downhill from there.
There are two kinds of people in this world: those who know where their high school yearbook is and those who do not.
If you have to ask someone to change, to tell you they love you, to bring wine to dinner, to call you when they land, you can't afford to be with them.
Unless you are a professional, you will find the tart to be a high-maintenance, unforgiving whistle-blower of a pastry.
I would gladly have accepted a heaping spoonful of nepotism when I got out of college and was looking for a job.
Book tours are such a little tapas meal of where I could live.
Uniqueness is wasted on youth. Like fine wine or a solid flossing habit, you'll be grateful for it when you're older.
No affair that begins with such an orchestrated overture can end on a simple note.
I like to try to do a little work before I do anything in the morning, even if it's a paragraph.
I'm a summer baby, so I usually have my birthday as a good summer memory.
You know what they say: 'Why sit at a table that doesn't have key lime pie on it if you don't have to?'
Cohabitation seems a greater leap in cities because it's all the harder to extract oneself if things turn sour. It's what keeps otherwise functional adults living with their mothers.
I was diagnosed with a severe temporal spatial deficit, a learning disability that means I have zero spatial relations skills. It was official: I was a genius trapped in an idiot's body.
In every woman's wardrobe, there are certain accessories that cannot be separated from their back stories.
You feel like telling him you're not single in the way that he thinks you're single. After all, you have yourself.
It's never good to fall in love with someone whom you'd have to stab in the eyeballs to elicit a response.
I wouldn't want to live in Berlin. It's bombed out and there's a lot of techno.
In New York and LA, there is sort of that silent competition to be on the cutting edge of something.
Are there moments when I see unrequited crushes or ex-boyfriends slow dancing with their dates and kind of want to stab myself in the spleen with a salad fork? Yeah, sure.
Suburbia is too close to the country to have anything real to do and too close to the city to admit you have nothing real to do.
I was surprised by how much I loved Portland. It is so wonderfully creative without being artsy. Great food scene.
Alaska is what happens when Willy Wonka and the witch from Hansel and Gretel elope, buy a place together upstate, renounce their sweet teeth, and turn into health fanatics.
We all deserve to be congratulated, but sadly that would mean there's no one left to do the congratulating.
Every time I open the drawer, it's a trip down Memory Lane, which, if you don't turn off at the right exit, merges straight into the Masochistic Nostalgia Highway.
My mother is a special education teacher but also an artist, and my father an advertising executive. They are about as wacky as you can get without being alcoholics.
It's remarkable the logic we'll build around a misapprehension.
When you spin a globe and point to a city and actually go to that city, you build an allowance of missed opportunities on the back end.
The Darkness at Irving. Hope to have as much fun doing anything ever as these guys have on stage.
Sometimes in New York, you're walking down the street and you realize there's a girl walking in front of you whose thighs you could hit a golf ball through, and maybe that makes you depressed.
It is my belief that people who speak of high school with a sugary fondness are bluffing away early-onset Alzheimer's.
Because this is the beauty of strangers: we're all just doing our best to help each other out, motivated not by karma but by a natural instinct to help the greater whole.
Yes. I am writing full-time. Which is strange. It feels like not having a job.
I think it's hard to have a full-time job and write fiction, but for essays, you need to be in the world.
I think that most New Yorkers would object to calling me a New Yorker. I didn't grow up here.
I write on weekends, on vacation, and, really - on deadline and on my floor. Both terrible for the back.
New Yorkers have a delightfully narcissistic habit of assuming that if they're not conscious of a scene, it doesn't exist.
Out of all artists, authors are the least trained for the spotlight. Wanting attention isn't a requisite part of the package.
Working on an essay versus a novel is like the difference between seeing to that curtain and seeing to New Jersey.
My A-number one visceral fear is speed. More than knives or snakes or confined spaces. Speed. I won't even go on a motor boat if I can help it.
The world I describe is about how people live now. It's not about zany people with unlimited, inexplicable funds in an apartment somewhere.
Personal technology has given us the freedom of being able to do whatever we want - and in the case of celebrities and athletes, whomever they want. But it can also serve as a humiliation jetpack.
There's just no concept of layering a thick-sleeved sweater under a coat in L.A. A coat is more of a gesture than a necessity. You know, in case the temperature goes down to 55 degrees.
Picture it in your mind's nostril: you get in a cab in time to catch twin thugs named Vomit and Cologne assaulting a defenseless pine-tree air freshener.
I don't do emoticons unless I'm making a big deal out of them. I'll type out, 'This is so amusing it makes me want to grin in pixels.' And then do it.
I don't really think of my essays as being about myself. I know it sounds insane, but I just don't think of them as a memoir. They're essays; they're not an autobiography.
I think the rule of thumb should be this: if you preface a sentence about a friend with the phrase, 'I love X, but... ' more than once in any conversation, you should stop hanging out with them.
As most New Yorkers have done, I have given serious and generous thought to the state of my apartment should I get killed during the day.
Our culture's obsession with vintage objects has rendered us unable to separate history from nostalgia. People want heart. They want a chaser of emotion with their aesthetics.
I have a disproportionate amount of faith in the goodness of the world and that everything will actually work out okay.