When I start to write, I don't have any plan at all. I just wait for the story to come.

People are drawn deeper into tragedy not by their defects but by their virtues.

A certain type of perfection can only be realized through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect.

Were the stars out when I left the house last evening? All I could remember was the couple in the Skyline listening to Duran Duran. Stars? Who remembers stars? Come to think of it, had I even looked up at the sky recently? Had the stars been wiped out of the sky three months ago, I wouldn’t have known.

It takes years to build up, it takes moments to destroy.

What we see before us is just one tiny part of the world. We get in the habit of thinking, this is the world, but that's not true at all. The real world is a much darker and deeper place than this, and much of it is occupied by jellyfish and things.

Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that's how we've got to live.