There are times when the thing we are seeing changes before our very eyes, and if it is a landscape we praise nature, and if it is celestial we invoke God, but if it is a loved one who defects, we excuse ourselves and say we have to be somewhere and are already late for our next appointment. We do not stay to put pennies over the half-dead eyes.

Ideally I'd like to spend two evenings a week talking to Proust and another conversing with the Holy Ghost.

Writers, however mature and wise and eminent, are children at heart.

My hand does the work and I dont have to think; in fact, were I to think, it would stop the flow. Its like a dam in the brain that bursts.

shadows of love, inebriations of love, foretastes of love, trickles of love, but never yet the one true love.

Writing is the product of a deeply disturbed psyche, and by no means therapeutic.

We all leave one another. We die, we change - it's mostly change - we outgrow our best friends; but even if I do leave you, I will have passed on to you something of myself; you will be a different person because of knowing me; it's inescapable.