The man has a theory. The woman has hipbones. Here comes Death.

There is something about the way that Greek poets, say Aeschylus, use metaphor that really attracts me. I don't think I can imitate it, but there's a density to it that I think I'm always trying to push towards in English.

No one will ever make necessity not happen.

Here we go mother on the shipless ocean. Pity us, pity the ocean, here we go.

We are only midway through the central verse of our youth when we see ourselves begin to blacken. ... We had been seduced into thinking that we were immortal and suddenly the affair is over.

What makes life life and not a simple story? Jagged bits moving never still, all along the wall.

Everything depends on liking the people and trusting the people. You have to assume that whatever they do will be as good as you want the thing to be and just go ahead with that.