Being called a 'bad citizen' is a compliment to a novelist, at least to my mind. That's exactly what we ought to do.

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".

If you know you're worth nothing, only a gamble with death can gratify your vanity.

We don't really know how technology will affect narrative. That's the question. See, people used to say that the novel is going to die, but they would never say that movies will die with it, when in fact all forms depend on the narrative. I think if one of them fails, the others are going to fail as well. Maybe this will happen to both forms, and maybe movies will take a totally different direction with fiction.

Clouds are no deterrent. Clouds intensify the drama, trap and shape the light.

Something lurked inside the truth.

It was the time of year, the time of day, for a small insistent sadness to pass into the texture of things. Dusk, silence, iron chill. Something lonely in the bone.