We are not all connected. We are bags of skin. We are all separate bags of thinking skin.

We are not all connected. We are bags of skin. We are all separate bags of thinking skin.

A good roast of sun, it slows you, lets you relax–and out here if there's anything wrong, you can see it coming with bags of time to do what's next. This is the place and the weather for peace, for the cultivation of a friendly mind.

Write. No amount of self-inflicted misery, altered states, black pullovers or being publicly obnoxious will ever add up to your being a writer. Writers write. On you go.

Nothing makes you feel more stupid than finding out you were wrong when you thought you were loved.

Read. As much as you can. As deeply and widely and nourishingly and ­irritatingly as you can. And the good things will make you remember them, so you won't need to take notes.

Surgery is just stabbing in a courteous environment