Traveling is seeing; it is the implicit that we travel by.
The ordinary is the divine.
After a certain number of years, our faces become our biographies.
The trouble with happiness is that it never notices itself.
Fiction does not invent out of a vacuum, but it invents; and what it invents is, first, the fabric and cadence of language, and then a slant of idea that sails out of these as a fin lifts from the sea.
The power of language, it seems to me, is the only kind of power a writer is entitled to.