Confidence and superiority: It's the usual fundamentalist stuff: I've got the truth, and you haven't.

Don’t lie. You know you like to view but not to buy. I have found that I am not a space where people want to live, at least not without decorating first. And that is the stubbornness in me: I do not want to be someone’s little home.

That is what literature offers—a language powerful enough to say how it is. It isn't a hiding place. It is a finding place.

What would it have meant to be happy? What would it have meant if things had been bright, clear, good between us?

Only the impossible is worth the effort.

Myths hook and bind the mind because at the same time they set the mind free: they explain the universe while allowing the universe to go on being unexplained; and we seem to need this even now, in our twentieth-century grandeur.

I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them.