Doesn't seem quite real. It's not meaningful. I can't quite imagine myself being 73. That's the age my father was! [Laughter.] How can I be his age? It's weird.

People say great art is immortal. I say there's something mortal in it. It carries a glimpse of death.

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".

All human existence is a trick of light.

Why are homosexuals addicted to soap opera? Because our lives are a vivid situation.

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

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