And my heart beat faster for the mountains of eastern Europe, finally, beat faster for the one hope that somewhere we might find in that primitive countryside the answer to why under God this suffering was allowed to exist - why under God it was allowed to begin, and how under God it might be ended. I had not the courage to end it, I knew, without that answer.

That process by which you become a writer is a pretty lonely one. We don't have a group apprenticeship like a violinist might training for an orchestra.

So until we meet again, I am thinking of you always; I love you; I wish you were here...in my arms.

We’re going to die and not even know. We’ll never know, and all this meaninglessness will just go on and on and on. And we won’t any longer be witnesses to it. We won’t have even that little bit of power to give meaning to it in our minds. We’ll just be gone, dead, dead, dead, without ever knowing!

The vampires have always been metaphors for me. They've always been vehicles through which I can express things I have felt very, very deeply.

I don't like myself you know. I love myself. I'm devoted to myself till my dying day. But I don't like myself.

We breathe the light, we breathe the music, we breathe the moment as it passes through us.