... because a fight's worth nothing if you know from the start that you're going to win it. It's the ones in between that test you. They're the ones that bring questions with them.

It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.

And then there's the sickness I feel from looking at legs I can't touch, or at lips that don't smile at me. Or hips that don't reach for me. And hearts that don't beat for me.

The city buildings in the distance are holding up the sky, it seems.

It makes me wonder, Do we spend most of our days trying to remember or forget things? Do we spend most of our time running towards or away from our lives? I don't know.

Time will tell, I suppose, or at least, these pages will.

The only people we want to blame are ourselves, because it will be ourselves that we rely upon.

The thing is, I don't even hate cops. To tell you the truth, I actually feel a little sorry for them.

That paper--it sits there, open at the employment section. It sits there like a war, and each small advertisement is another trench for a person to dive into. To hope and fight in.

In art, questions are always more interesting than answers.

Life is full of unfairness but you'll have to deal with it, as long as you're able to take a breath.

An editor sleeping with his writer was not as bad as a psychoanalyst sleeping with his patient, or even a professor sleeping with an undergraduate, let alone a president with an intern.

We can only take it so far, because man can only take it so far, lower self can only take it so far, and you have to realize that the public is only at a certain place.

My musical instrument is Hebrew and, to me, this is the most important fact about my writing.

In my own recent String Trio I attempt to superimpose two quite different sets of formal strategies, both of which, ultimately, refer back to historical precedent.

If you cannot handle the pressure, don't be an entrepreneur. Go get a job!

I love not having to rely on anyone.

I resist the urge to pump my fist. I'm not sure why, but I feel like I've just won some sort of competition worthy of headlines.