There is no hatred in my love for you. Only a sadness I feel all the more strongly for my inability to explain or describe it.

You have a great deal of yourself on the line, writing- your vanity is at stake. You discover a tricky thing about fiction writing; a certain amount of vanity is necessary to be able to do it all, but any vanity above that certain amount is lethal.

Nothing brings you together like a common enemy.

The sound of wind had become, for me, silence. When it went away, I was left with the squeak of the blood in my head and the aural glitter of all those little eardrum hairs quivering like a drunk in withdrawal.

The truth will set you free. But not until it is finished with you.

Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship.

For these cultures, getting rid of the pain without addressing the deeper cause would be like shutting off a fire alarm while the fire's still going.