The tragedy of this world is that everyone is alone. For a life in the past cannot be shared with the present.

My second novel, "Good Benito", was not finished. I wished that I had spent another year with it.

"The Diagnosis" is by far my most ambitious book. I such great hopes for it... there was so much I wanted to do with the book. I was extremely insecure about it for several years. Just didn't know whether I would finish the book much less for it to come close to what I intended. I think that for any novel you never know exactly how the book is going to turn out...

Each person who gets stuck in time gets stuck alone.

I go to live in Maine for the summer. Without computer, and without the telephone service we are mercifully without the faxes and e-mails. So it's really about two and a half months that I'll feel like I can recover some silence in my life...which is so hard to find.

Sadness is no more than a bit of acid transfixed in the cerebellum.

While people brood, time skips ahead without looking back.