Wherever there's capitalism there's this inclination toward simplicity. There's also a human need to process complicated things by turning them into something else.

One of the many conditions that have to be met for a brain to become a mind, and therefore have consciousness, is 'the analog I' around which all the simultaneous inflow of sensations and stimulations are reflected and organized.

I never thought of myself as an outsider. Because outside of what? You would have to give advantage to this space where you're not, to think of it as sovereign because you're not there. I was always in the center of where I needed to be.

Time does nothing but hand you down shabbier and older things.

We, as writers, have to figure out a way to create a consciousness in language. It's crazy even to attempt to do that.

Your memories become fantasies if they are not shared, and your life in all its triviality becomes a legend.

Lord, why did you leave me in these woods?