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

All our parents have levels of deviousness. We're driven to write about this discrepancy between the bright shining selves they invented and the monsters lurking underneath.

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

Lovers, children, heroes, none of them do we fantasize as extravagantly as we fantasize our parents.

The vast Pacific ocean would always remain the islanders' great solace, escape and nourishment, the amniotic fluid that would keep them hedonistic and aloof, guarded, gentle and mysterious.

I shall never cease to marvel at the way we beg for love and tyranny.

Like most writers I know, I love being on stage. I’ve sublimated the dramatic urge by teaching and by making people laugh.