I don't understand why, in my work, writing is always so dangerous. It's very destructive. People who write books are destroyers.

There is a certain aesthetic pleasure in trying to imagine the unimaginable and failing, if you are a reader.

Everything is surprising, rightly seen.

I think vestigially there's a synesthete in me but not like a real one who immediately knows what colour Wednesday is.

I think the names of colors are at the edge, between where language fails and where it's at its most powerful.

I don't understand why, in my work, writing is always so dangerous. It's very destructive. People who write books are destroyers.

I think the virtue I prize above all others is curiosity. If you look really hard at almost anybody, and try to see why they're doing what they're doing, taking a dig at them ceases to be what you want to do even if you hate them.