How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" to a margin note written in her loop-heavy cursive: Straight & Fast.

And then something invisible snapped insider her, and that which had come together commenced to fall apart.

Y'all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die.

She has great breasts," the Colonel said without looking up from the whale.
"DO NOT OBJECTIFY WOMEN'S BODIES!" Alaska shouted.
Now he looked up. "Sorry. Perky breasts."
"That's not any better!

When I was little, my dad used to tell me, "Will, you can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friends nose.

One of the pitfalls of writing about illness is that it is very easy to imagine people with cancer as either these wise, beyond-their-years creatures or else these sad-eyed, tragic people. And the truth is people living with cancer are very much like people who are not living with cancer.