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There was nothing in this world that was not a con, suddenly I understood this. Nothing really mattered, and nothing could be lost.

Miranda July

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Miranda July
Age: 50
Born: 1974
Born: February 15
Actor
Artist
Film Actor
Film Director
Musician
Screenwriter
Writer
Barre
Vermont
Miranda J. Grossinger
World
Mattered
Suddenly
Understood
Lost
Nothing
Really

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In my paranoid world every storekeeper thinks I’m stealing, every man thinks I’m a prostitute or a lesbian, every woman thinks I’m a lesbian or arrogant, and every child and animal sees the real me and it is evil.
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For a split second I felt as though she was nobody special in the larger scheme of my life. She was just some girl who had tied me to her leg to help her sink when she jumped off the bridge. Then I blinked and was in love with her again.
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We come from long lines of people destined never to meet.
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She bludgeoned me with a look of such limitless compassion that I immediately began to cry.
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Would she understand that time had stopped while she was gone.
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If you were wise enough to know that this life would consist mostly of letting go of things you wanted, then why not get good at the letting go, rather than the trying to have?
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When I write, I wear earplugs. I don't want to be self-conscious. I don't want to be thinking about the fact that I'm thinking about it. I just want to be in it. It's one element of hypnosis.
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I wish there were a class where we could just keep going around the circle. around and around, until we had finally said everything about ourselves.
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If there were a map of the solar system, but instead of stars it showed people and their degrees of separation, my star would be the one you had to travel the most light-years from to get to his. You would die getting to him.
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Since I started making art, I've always had some kind of project that was really about and for other people, because I think I just need that balance to feel sane myself — you know?
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He seemed to be waiting for me to move forward. Weren't we all.
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I can't imagine being invested in someone else's script.
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There's always the sense that you should strike while the iron's hot and while there are all these opportunities, but that's not the way I get ideas. It has to be more organic, building up through living and through experiencing things.
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And why had Deb's last boyfriend dumped her? I dumped him. Maybe you didn't French-kiss him enough. I promise you that wasn't it. Tell me how many times a day you kissed, and I'll say if it was enough. Four hundred. Not enough.
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It was a tiny sound but it woke me up because it was a human sound.
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I can guarantee you nothing I do is a conscious attempt to inject something in.
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She never inquired, but she never recoiled, either. This is a quality that I look for in a person, not recoiling.
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It occurred to me that everyone’s story matters to themselves, so the more I listened, the more she wanted to talk.
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That day I carried the dream around like a full glass of water, moving gracefully so I would not lose any of it.
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I think titles are tricky because they're like a really short ad for the book. And like an ad, they should open the door in a way that might be more accessible than the book itself. So I always like titles to be familiar. I'm not trying to break ground with the title itself. The title should feel like something already celebrated.
Miranda July