True love gallops, it flies, it is the swiftest of all modes of thought, swifter even than hate and fear.

Time can divorce us from the reality of people, it can separate us from people and turn them into ghosts. Or rather it is we who turn them into ghosts or demons. Some kinds of fruitless preoccupations with the past can create such simulacra, and they can exercise power, like those heroes at Troy fighting for a phantom Helen.

any writer is inevitably going to work with his own anxieties and desires. If the book is any good it has got to have in it the fire of a personal unconscious mind.

Perhaps misguided moral passion is better than confused indifference.

I see myself as Rhoda, not Mary Tyler Moore.

On connecting: Where does one person end and another person begin?

All artists dream of a silence which they must enter, as some creatures return to the sea to spawn.