I think we often write because we feel a loneliness, and people read for the same reason, and then they come away feeling a little less lonely.

I also thought of playing improvisational jazz and I did take lessons for a while. At first I tried to write fiction by making up things that were completely alien to my life.

And I remember wondering why it was that eating something good could make me feel so terrible, while vomiting something terrible could make me feel so good.

I began to look at all events and all things as relevant, an opportunity to take or avoid.

There's no hope. There's no reason to keep trying. Because you must. This is not hope. Not reason. This is your fate. This is your life, what you must do.

how can the world in all its chaos come up with so many coincidences, so many similarities and exact opposites?

Who knows where inspiration comes from. Perhaps it arises from desperation. Perhaps it comes from the flukes of the universe, the kindness of the muses.