Suppose time is a circle, bending back on itself. The world repeats itself, precisely, endlessly.

I love the fact publishers are still publishing unprofitable material. It's a challenge to the powers that be. It's saying there is a real literature in this country and we will keep publishing it.

Imagine a world in which there is no time. Only images.

In a world in which time is a circle, every handshake, every kiss, every birth, every word, will be repeated precisely.

One metaphor for how we are living is that you see so may people with cell phones. In restaurants, walking, they have cell phones clamped to their to heads. When they are on their cell phones they are not where their bodies are...they are somewhere else in hyperspace. They are not grounded. We have become disembodied. By being always somewhere else we are nowhere.

Such is the cost of immortality. No person is whole. No person is free. Over time, some have determined that the only way to live is to die. In death, a man or a woman is free of the weight of the past [and the future].

Time is the clarity for seeing right and wrong.