We live in an age of rapid mass media, television, Internet. They determine our tempo, not books.

Time is a corporate asset now. It belongs to the free market system. The present is harder to find... The future becomes insistent.

You live in a tower that soars to heaven and goes unpunished by God.

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.

Just because it's on the radio doesn't mean we have to suspend belief in the evidence of our senses.

One of my earliest memories as a reader - I don't know how old I was, quite young - was a poem of his, called "Fog," and I remember the first verse, "The fog comes / on little cat feet".

Certainly I've never tried to imagine what the future will hold. It's a hopeless endeavor to try to do such a thing.