Maybe this is why people are obsessed with twins: they have a sense of loss, something missing, someone missing.

Children are only possessed by the devil when nobody else is around.

I fancied myself a photographer as a teenager, but I had ulterior motives.

You want to write about how absent a man can be in the presence of an environment. You’re the man, and you’re very absent in your environment ...

“Who is to say the writer’s intention is necessarily any more important than the meaning we find or create?”

“Hopeless romantic”—at least in this context—is an oxymoron born of outsider cynicism—hope is inherent in love.