I have a grim outlook on the world, and in particular on humanity. Spent years denying it, but I am very misanthropic. And I live alone on a mountain for a reason.

Still, it's an interesting technique-leaving one person behind in order to find her or him somewhere else. And in someone else.

The defenders of decent society and the disciples of degeneracy are often the same people.

Absolutely nothing brings out the killer instinct in the upper crust of New York Society like a charity function.

I, like most of my friends, couldn't believe I bought a mountain called Misery Mountain, because it was so appropriate.

I'm a fairly ascetic person. And I do most of my writing at night. You don't get distracted, your brain goes into what you are writing about, into the world you're writing about, rather than into the world you're in.

People are disturbed enough by serial killers, but the whole notion of female violence, particularly maternal violence - the idea of mothers who kill - really unnerves people.