These are our few live seasons. Let us live them as purely as we can, in the present.

Adverbs are a sign that you've used the wrong verb.

There is no such thing as an artist: there is only the world lit or unlit as the light allows. When the candle is burning, who looks at the wick? When the candle is out, who needs it?

We are here to abet creation and to witness to it, to notice each other's beautiful face and complex nature so that creation need not play to an empty house.

Novels written with film contracts in mind have a faint but unmistakable, and ruinous, odor.

Then why did you tell me?

[Insects] are not only cold-blooded, and green- and yellow-blooded, but are also cased in a clacking horn. They have rigid eyes and brains strung down their backs. But they make up the bulk of our comrades-at-life, so I look to them for a glimmer of companionship.