Writing fiction takes me out of time. I sit down and the clock will not exist for me for a few hours. That’s probably as close to immortal as we’ll ever get.

I find in myself a need to get very away.

We will, of course, without hesitation use art to parody, ridicule, debunk, or criticize ideologies.

I'll say God seems to have a kind of laid-back management style I'm not crazy about. I'm pretty much anti-death. God looks by all accounts to be pro-death. I'm not seeing how we can get together on this issue, he and I.

I will probably write an hour a day and spend eight hours a day biting my knuckle and worrying about not writing.

Fiction is one of the few experiences where loneliness can be both confronted and relieved.

I submit that tennis is the most beautiful sport there is and also the most demanding. It requires body control, hand-eye coordination, quickness, flat-out speed, endurance, and that weird mix of caution and abandon we call courage. It also requires smarts. Just one single shot in one exchange in one point of a high-level match is a nightmare of mechanical variables.