The genius of rock music is that it matched the cultural hysteria around it.

There are no amateurs in the world of children.

People think about who they are in the stillest hour of the night.

Men with secrets tend to be drawn to each other, not because they want to share what they know but because they need the company of the like-minded, the fellow afflicted.

Perhaps we've invented conspiracies for our own psychic well-being, to heal ourselves.

Before pop art, there was such a thing as bad taste. Now there's kitsch, schlock, camp, and porn.

The best moments involve a loss of control. It's a kind of rapture, and it can happen with words and phrases fairly often - completely surprising combinations that make a higher kind of sense, that come to you out of nowhere. But rarely for extended periods, for paragraphs and pages - I think poets must have more access to this state than novelists do.