A Lot Of Girls Who Turn Into

'one Hundred Years Of Solitude' Convinced Me To Drop Out Of Harvard Graduate School. The Novel Reminded Me Of Everything My Ph.d. Program Was Trying To Make Me Forget. Thank You, Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

The Mystery Of Death, The Riddle Of How You Could Speak To Someone And See Them Every Day And Then Never Again, Was So Impossible To Fathom That Of Course We Kept Trying To Figure It Out, Even When We Were Unconscious.

To Be Truthful, Some Writers Stop You Dead In Your Tracks By Making You See Your Own Work In The Most Unflattering Light. Each Of Us Will Meet A Different Harbinger Of Personal Failure, Some Innocent Genius Chosen By Us For Reasons Having To Do With What We See As Our Own Inadequacies. The Only Remedy To This I Have Found Is To Read A Writer Whose Work Is Entirely Different From Another, Though Not Necessarily More Like Your Own—a Difference That Will Remind You Of How Many Rooms There Are In The House Of Art.

I’ve Always Found That The Better The Book I’m Reading, The Smarter I Feel, Or, At Least, The More Able I Am To Imagine That I Might, Someday, Become Smarter.

We Never Believe We're Beautiful, No Matter How Many Times We Hear It. We Never Believe It Until Someone Says It In The Right Way.