300 Arguments

You aren’t the same person after a good night’s sleep as you are after a sleepless night. But which person is you?

I don’t love writing; I love having a problem I believe I might someday write my way out of.

I’ve never seen a ghost and I don’t believe in them. I might see one tonight, but even then I wouldn’t believe in ghosts. I’d believe in that ghost.

Is it a failure of my imagination that I’ve never been able to summon any genuine feeling about a sports team?

It’s easier to speak to a crowd, to stare into the spotlight, than it is to look into a human face.

What’s worse: Offending someone or lying to someone? Saying something stupid when it’s your turn, or not saying anything? Tell me which, and I’ll tell you your problem.

It can be worth forgoing marriage for sex, and it can be worth forgoing sex for marriage. It can be worth forgoing parenthood for work, and it can be worth forgoing work for parenthood. Every case is orthogonal to all the others. That’s the entire problem.

I annotated my friend’s book manuscript with scribbles on every page. She annotated mine with a single note: This needs to be better. She trusted that I would know what to do, and I did.

Think of this as a short book composed entirely of what I hoped would be a long book’s quotable passages.