On the heels of exclaiming, out loud to myself, "Crap, I'm writing another book." .
"My plan was never to get married. I was going to be an art monster instead. Women rarely become art monsters, because art monsters only concern themselves with art, never mundane things. Nabokov didn't even fold his own umbrella. Vera licked his stamps for him." .
"Are animals lonely? Other animals, I mean."