In Venezuela, which doesn't have thousands of prestige universities like the U.S., people usually stay at home while attending to college. After they graduate, they move for a job or get married.

You can meet somebody at a club. You can meet somebody at a restaurant. But maybe that person is not on the same page. Maybe that person is like, 'I'm starting out, I don't want to get married now.' Or, 'I don't want to have kids.'

We were created to be woman and man and make kids.

Different people have different opinions, and it's okay to respect all of them.

The Internet is full of strangers, generous strangers who want to help you for no reason at all. Strangers post poetry and discographies and advice and essays and photos and art and diatribes. None of them are known to you, in the old-fashioned sense. But they give the Internet its life and meaning.

What I've learned is that living in public life... it's impossible to have everybody like you. No matter what you do.

Once, the world was full of mysteries, some of them frightening, some of them wonderful, some of them merely fascinating. Now, it can be a banal and predictable place, the tracks of daily life so well-beaten and defined, our culture awash with the imbecile obvious, our existence suffocating in safety. But mysteries remain.

I feel like if you just walk with a purpose, people will think you're supposed to be there. That's my life theory.