How vast was a human being's capacity for suffering. The only thing you could do was stand in awe of it. It wasn't a question of survival at all. It was the fullness of it, how much could you hold, how much could you care.

Life should always be like this. ... Like lingering over a good meal.

As an artist, you can never get what you want. What you do never approaches what you want it to be.

I tried writing fiction as a little kid, but had a teacher humiliate me, so didn't write again until I was a senior in college.

If I get ideas independently of the act of writing, they never really fit. So for me, there's no hanging out, waiting for inspiration.

She would be half a planet away, floating in a turquoise sea, dancing by moonlight to flamenco guitar.

She would buy magic every day of the week. Love me, that face said. I'm so lonely, so desperate. I'll give you whatever you want.