Fame and secrecy are the high and low ends of the same fascination.

There's a connection between the advances that are made in technology and the sense of primitive fear people develop in response to it.

We surrounded ourselves with smoke and loud noise. That's the way we chose to live. I'm prepared to defend it.

The novel is the dream release, the suspension of reality that history needs to escape its own brutal confinements.

Mirrors and images. Or sex and love. These are two separate systems that we miserably try to link.

I long for the days of disorder. I want them back, the days when I was alive on the earth, rippling in the quick of my skin, heedless and real. I was dumb-muscled and angry and real. This is what I long for, the breach of peace, the days of disarray when I walked real streets and did things slap-bang and felt angry and ready all the time, a danger to others and a distant mystery to myself.

When I work I have a sculptor's sense of the shape of the words I'm making. I use a machine with larger than average letters: the bigger the better.