We're constantly, as human beings, trying to understand why we do what we do and how we got to wherever we find ourselves today. Sometimes it takes a lot of time to look back and go, 'I can't believe I spent one day with that person, much less two years.'

If I'm not moved from one spot to another, internally, while I'm witnessing it, reading it, consuming it, whatever, I don't know why we're being asked to the party.

The mythology is that from chaos comes great work. I actually used to think that when I was younger, and I no longer think that anymore.

There's a poignancy to being with someone older. I think there's a greater appreciation of time and what you have together and what's important, and it can make the little things seem very small. It puts a kind of sharp light mixed with a sort of diffused light on something.

My mom worked late, and I was at home a lot by myself. It was good for my imagination - and bad for it, too.

My choices in romantic partners have not been conventional, and therefore, the idea that it is 'other' makes it compelling.

All of my friends went to college, and I got a job at Circle Pizza, where I worked for 24 hours. I had to call my mother four times to ask her how to spell Parmesan. I'm not kidding. I was a terrible speller.

My mom moved to New York City alone with a kid on each hip to try to live an authentic artistic life.

To truly feel seen by another person makes you feel so peaceful.

I don't feel like a very nostalgic person. I think about the past much more clinically. When I look back and wonder, 'Why was I doing that? Was it a waste of time?' I don't beat myself up. Instead, I say, 'I'm so glad I did that, because now I really know what matters to me.'