A writer or any suffering artist-to-be is just an instrument too finely set to the human condition [...]

A lot of the ways of advertising a book - the cover, whether somebody sees it on a subway or sees it in a bookstore - those things are going to rapidly diminish as we move to an electronic model.

Let's see if I can write about something other than my heart.

Remember this... develop a sense of nostalgia for something, or you'll never figure out what's important.

I read real books. On paper. You know, those printed books? I feel like this is the last thing I do to support my industry. I think they smell great, too.

I reveled in the smallness, the coziness of an upstairs bedroom in a traditional American Cape Cod house the half-floor that forces you to duck, to feel small and naive again, ready for anything, dying for love, your body a chimney filled with odd, black smoke. These square, squat, awkward rooms are like a fifty-square-foot paean to teenage-hood, to ripeness, to the first and last taste of youth.

My mother cranes her neck. Her ability to be fascinated by things is her best gift to me.