The Hardest Thing Is Spending Twelve Hours

Uniqueness Is Wasted On Youth. Like Fine Wine Or A Solid Flossing Habit, You'll Be Grateful For It When You're Older.

Because, Ten-year-olds Of The World, You Shouldn't Believe What Your Teachers Tell You About The Beauty And Specialness And Uniqueness Of You. Or, Believe It, Little Snowflake, But Know It Won't Make A Bit Of Difference Until After Puberty. It's Newton's Lost Law: Anything That Makes You Unique Later Will Get Your Chocolate Milk Stolen And Your Eye Blackened As A Kid. Won't It, Sebastian? Oh, Yes, It Will, My Little Mandarin Chinese-learning, Poe-reciting, High-top-wearing Friend. God Bless You, Wherever You Are.

It's Remarkable The Logic We'll Build Around A Misapprehension.

I Hope To One Day Co-sign A Lease With Another Person But, Well, It Doesn't Plague Me That I Have Yet To Do So. Put It This Way: I've Never Had To Violently Tug At My Own Pillow At 2 A.m. To Get Myself To Stop Snoring.

There's Already A Marriage Clock, A Career Clock, A Biological Clock. Sometimes Being A Woman Feels Like Standing In The Lobby Of A Hotel, Looking At The Dials Depicting Every Time Zone In The World Behind The Front Desk - Except They All Apply To You, And All At Once.