one could drown in irrelevance.

She would simply wait on the bridge, calm and obstinate, until events, real events, not her own fantasies, roe to her challenge, and dispelled her insignificance.

By measuring individual human worth, the novelist reveals the full enormity of the State

I believe the novella is the perfect form of prose fiction.

He would work through the night and sleep until lunch. There wasn't really much else to do. Make something, and die.

I like to think that each book I start is a completely new departure But I’ve learned that whatever you do, readers will have no difficulty assimilating it into what you’ve done before.

We know so little about each other. We lie mostly submerged, like ice floes, with our visible social selves projecting only cool and white.