The absence of plot leaves the reader room to think about other things.

The novel is dead. Long live the antinovel, built from scraps.

I'm wonderfully self-lacerating, probably to my character's detriment. I'm terribly open to critique.

To me, the moment you're talking about nonfiction you're talking about reality.

You're one of 6.5 billion people now on the planet, and 99.9 percent of your genes are the same as everyone else's.

I don’t know what’s the matter with me, why I’m so adept at distance, why I feel so remote from things, why life feels like a rumor.

My medium is prose, not the novel.