Some people are larger than life. Hitler is larger than death.

Talent is more erotic when it's wasted.

To be a tourist is to escape accountability. Errors and failings don't cling to you the way they do back home. You're able to drift across continents and languages, suspending the operation of sound thought. Tourism is the march of stupidity.

I've always seen myself in sentences. I begin to recognize myself, word by word, as I work through a sentence.

Freud is finished, Einstein's next.

People hurried past, the others of the street, endless anonymous, twenty-one lives per second, race-walking in their faces and pigments, sprays of fleetest being.

Writers, some of us, may tend to see things before other people do, things that are right there but aren't noticed in the way that a writer might notice.