Sometimes what I wouldn't give to have us sitting in a bar again at 9:00 a.m. telling lies to one another, far from God.

Talk into my bullet hole. Tell me I'm fine.

This life is but the childhood of our immortality.

It was only when you left it alone that a tree might treat you as a friend. After the blade bit in, you had yourself a war.

Before this moment I'd lived as a mind. Body, heart, soul, intellect, so we care ourselves into parts. But the whole of us, what can it be?

I was probably 35 when I wrote the first story. The voice is kind of a mix in that it has a young voice, but it's also someone who's looking back. I like that kind of double vision.

There's so much goop inside of us, man," he said, "and it all just wants to get out.