A lover exists only in fragments, a dozen or so if the romance is new, a thousand if we’re married to him, and out of those fragments our heart constructs an entire person. What we...

My confessions did nothing to alter this situation, but for the first time in my life I felt that somebody actually knew me. Three somebodies, to be exact. Two were roaming the highway in a...

You don’t know shits I through in my life. You don’t know how many times I’ve fucked. You don’t know me.

You must know what you want, to find what you want.

What do we know of our mothers? I thought I knew her. But I’d seen her as a child sees a good mother–pure, transparent, incapable of deception.