We write out of revenge against reality, to dream and enter the lives of others.

Mine [parents] started out more from scratch, because I'm constantly aware of what they suffered in the war.

I think we're much more eager to know about our parents than we were in the seventies.

The choice between starving and being eaten is an exotic one.

If I were ever to go mad it would be on Thanksgiving Day, that day of guilt and grace when the family hangs upon you like an ax over a sacrificial victim, like the oven's heat on that poor bird.

The irreversibility of time. That's the hardest thing to accept at our age, that's the most violent aspect of death.

One learns much more by writing fiction, because the insights come from those deeper subconscious levels where the greater and more interesting truths lie.