Being alive, if you had to define it, meant emitting a variety of smells.

It's good when food tastes good, it's kind of like proof you're alive.

My arm was not what she needed, but the arm of someone else. My warmth was not what she needed, but the warmth of someone else.

You have to wait until tomorrow to find out what tomorrow will bring.

I started writing at the kitchen table after midnight. It took ten months to finish that first book; I sent it to a publisher and I got some kind of prize, so it was like a dream - I was surprised to find it happening.

Life is like a box of cookies.

A short story I have written long ago would barge into my house in the middle of the night, shake me awake and shout, 'Hey,this is no time for sleeping! You can't forget me, there's still more to write!' Impelled by that voice, I would find myself writing a novel. In this sense, too, my short stories and novels connect inside me in a very natural, organic way.