He might have been naive, but he didn't care; he said he's rather die with his heart on his sleeve than end up another cynic.

I think it is our job, as writers, to be epic. Epic and tiny at the same time. If you're going to be a fiction writer, why not take on something that means something. In doing this, you must understand that within that epic structure it is the tiny story that is possibly more important.

There's a part of me that thinks perhaps we go on existing in a place even after we've left it.

I'm of the opinion that the real is imagined and the imagined is quite real. The real is imagined, in the sense that we shape our stories, so anything that even happens on the news gets shaped in a certain way and gets a texture, and that the imagined can be real.

Sometimes we just walk into something that is not for us at all. We pretend it is. We think we can shrug it off like a coat, but it's not a coat at all, it's more like another skin. [...] All I wanted was to make my life thrilling for a while: to take the oridinary objects of my days and make a different argument out of them, no obligations to my past.

I'm a complete and utter fiction. Then again, we all are.

People think they know the mystery of living in your skin. They don't. There's no one who knows except the person who carts it around her own self.