If you have Darwin, Christ and Nietzsche, they're all going to talk at once. You need somebody who listens.

Feelings come and go, unless you don't feel them. Then they stay, and hurt, and grow pear-shaped and weird.

I mean, there's chemistry in life and there's acting chemistry. I'm not saying they're the same thing, but they're as mysterious.

At Princeton I wrote my junior paper on Virginia Woolf, and for my senior thesis I wrote on Samuel Beckett. I wrote some about "Between the Acts" and "Mrs. Dalloway'' but mostly about "To the Lighthouse." With Beckett I focused, perversely, on his novels, "Molloy," "Malone Dies," and "The Unnamable." That's when I decided I should never write again.

I don't know how anybody gets better at anything aside from doing it.

Our human nature is exactly the same as it was 500 years ago, let alone five years ago.

I'm not reading currently because I'm getting revisions of a novel. If I read while I'm writing I will unconsciously plagiarize and go to jail.