Writing what you wished was the most dangerous form of wishful thinking.

The forbidden things were a great influence on my life. I was forbidden from reading A Catcher in the Rye.

The muse appears at the point in my writing when I sense a subtle shift, a nudge to move over, and everything cracks open, the writing is freed, the lanuage is full, resources are plentiful, ideas pour forth, and to be frank, some of these ideas surprise me. It seems as thought the universe is my friend and is helping me write, its hand over mine.

Chaos is the penance for leisure.

People there only dream that it is China, because if you are Chinese you can never let go of China in your mind.

I thought I was clever enough to write as well as these people and I didn't realize that there is something called originality and your own voice.

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