Eruptions of talent continue to happen in Haiti, in spite of everything.

I realized I was never going to have any peace with myself unless I made an honest stab at trying to write.

Maybe the light's at the other end of the tunnel.

There was no such thing as perfection in this world, only moments of such extreme transparency that you forgot yourself, a holy mercy if there ever was one.

I took two fiction-writing courses in college and majored in literature. I felt that I had a knack though I wouldn't go so far as to call it a talent. But it scared me. I felt it was a childish thing wanting to write and that I would forget about it eventually.

If a person wants to be of any use to himself, he better insist on getting his fair share of beauty and pleasure, and if there's something about the system that's keeping him from getting his share, then I think he's well within his rights to fight to change that.

The Kessler Theater is one such gem, an Art Deco beauty … for a slice of real life, there’s always the Kessler.