I've always felt, as a writer, that radicals are fascinating because they're relations, they have a place in the American family. They're the relatives everyone wishes would go away. They're the embarrassments to decorum and good taste.

We dress them [children] in the presumptions of the world. They are the bright small face of hope. They are the last belief we have, the belief in making them believe.

Banks and churches and courtrooms all depend on the appurtenances of theatre. On illusion. Banks, the illusion of stability and honourable dealings to the rot and corruption of capitalist exploitation. Churches the illusion of sacred sanctuary of purposes of pacifying social discontent. Courtrooms of course designed to promote the illusion of solemn justice. If there was true justice why would such trappings be necessary? Wouldn't a table and chairs and an ordinary room serve just as well?

When I'm writing, I like to seal everything off and face the wall, not to look outside the window. The only way out is through the sentences.

Longing, the hope for fulfillment, is the one unwavering passion of the world's commerce.

The act of composition is a series of discoveries.

It proposed that human beings, by the act of making witness, warranted times and places for their existence other than the time and place they were living through.