It may be that the most avid readers of new fiction in America today are film producers, an indication of the trouble were in.

We're always attracted to the edges of what we are, out by the edges where it's a little raw and nervy.

Images break with a small ping, their destruction is as wonderful as their being, they are essentially instruments of torture exploding through the individual's calloused capacity to feel undifferentiated emotions full of longing and dissatisfaction and monumentality.

History is the present. That's why every generation writes it anew. But what most people think of as history is its end product, myth.

Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. Sometimes you run over a drunk who's lain down and fallen asleep on the warm pavement. I mean, do you keep going, or what?

Congress is so beholden to the money that any solution in the general interest will be frustrated and subverted by the corporate interests who feel they will be damaged by progress, fair play and justice.

We are able to walk on air, but only as long as our illusion supports us.