The cruellest thing you can do to Kerouac is reread him at thirty-eight.

My guess is that she is uncomfortable in such an intransigent world but is unable to live accordingly to her own desire.

And silence, like darkness, can be kind; it, too, is a language.

Our lives can only be lived forward and understood backwards. Living a life and understanding it occupy different dimensions.

What a quality of innocence people have when they don't expect to be harmed.

Security and safety were the reward of dullness.

I'm always writing. I'm an obsessive. It's not because I'm a disciplined person. It's because I'm crazy about it.