Me? I'm just a literary girl gone wrong. Slow with the tongue. Quick with the pen. Undeniably cute. But, on the whole, ill-equipped for the privilege of living.

I once heard someone say that the concept of moderation seems a little extreme, and tonight...I agree.

But in college, we can wear our alcohol abuse as proudly as our university sweatshirts; the two concepts are virtually synonymous.

I’ve been thinking I’d like to be Daisy; I’d like to have someone like Gatsby stare at my house for whole years and never stop dreaming of me

Like most women, I remember my first drink in tender minutiae.

I think statistics go in one ear and out the other. All of us respond to stories more than numbers.

I think for one, we have to really accept that anger is a normal human emotion that can be a positive force for change.

I have been a ballerina, a cheerleader and a sorority girl. I was the girliest girl alive.

I can’t help thinking about memoir as a down-and-up process: Dive down for color; come up for context. Sink back down for action; climb back up for self-awareness and gratitude.

For the first month of school, writing is its own upper. Pounding on my computer keys feels like playing the piano, like arranging words into harmony that sings back to me.

I'm trying to figure out precisely which character flaw might be responsible for my latest life failure.

Freedom for the wolves has often meant death to the sheep.

To exist as an individual means not simply to be numerically distinct from other things but to be a self-pole in a dynamic relationship with alterity, with what is other, with the world.

A selfie is nothing more than just an external reflection of yourself

The knowledge that I have acquired must not remain imprisoned in my brain. I owe it to many men and women to do something with it. I feel the need to pay back what was given to me. Call it gratitude.

Write to one person, not a million.

Blast Cecil!” said Eldric. “You have my permission,” I said.

In the film industry, all the money is focused on television and the stupidity of American cinema.

That is the logical tight-rope on which we have to walk if we wish to interpret nature.

Your life is a blank, and you're barely a shade across it.

He wanted to care, he wanted to care so badly, but there was this gap between what he felt and what he wanted to feel, a space where something important had been carved out.