All of my creation is an effort to weave a web of connection with the world: I am always weaving it because it was once broken.

myself ... is merely an instrument to connect life and a myth

I miss the animal buoyancy of New York, the animal vitality. I did not mind that it had no meaning and no depth.

I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon.

There is no denying that we are suffering from a collective neurosis and the novel which does not face this is not a novel of our time.

The monster I kill every day is the monster of realism. The monster who attacks me every day is destruction. Out of the duel comes the transformation. I turn destruction into creation over and over again.

The body is an instrument which only gives off music when it is used as a body.