Out of some persistent sense of large-scale ruin, we kept inventing hope.

Writing is a concentrated form of thinking.

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

Silence, exile, cunning and so on... it's my nature to keep quiet about most things. Even the ideas in my work.

What you see is not what we see. What you see is distracted by memory, by being who you are, all this time, for all these years.

Some nights I need to be held. Tonight I'm a listener. So nice to lie in rumpled sheets and listen. Cover me with words.

What good is knowledge if it just floats in the air? It goes from computer to computer. It changes and grows every second of every day. But nobody actually knows anything.