You Bring Your Own Weather To The

We're Called New Jersey But We're Actually The Suburbs Of New York.

Summer Romances Cometo An End. That Was Part Of The Deal. They Are Built Like Certain Plants Or Insects, Not Able To Survive More Than One Season. I Thought We Would Be Different. We Were, I Guess, But Not In The Way I Thought. I Truly Believed That We Would Never Let Each Other Go. The Young Are So Dumb.

I Always Say Three Things Make A Writer: Inspiration, Obviously; Perspiration, Doing The Work. But The Third Is Desperation. I'm Not Really Fit For Anything Else, Or To Have A Real Job. That Fear Drives Me. The Pressure Has Always Been Self Inflicted.

Hope Is Cruel. Hope Reminds Me Of What Almost Was. Hope Makes The Physical Ache Return.

I Try To Stress To My Children That Buying Something Never Leads To True Happiness.