On the worst days, I don't feel like an artist.

I'd been doing projects outdoors for the public. I made pigeons eat geometry by putting bread out in rhomboids and triangles. I don't know if this activity made sense, but the work was available.

I moved to New York in the 1970s and started writing when I was at the Whitney Museum Independent Study Program.

Well, I think in trying to make life seem real enough that one is moved to do something about the more atrocious things. By going really far afield into a completely fake world, maybe there's a chance to make things resonant somehow - or in this case, truly terrifying. To make it as bad as the real stuff that's happening.

Savor kindness because cruelty is always possible later.

Being alone with yourself is increasingly unpopular.

Raise boys and girls the same way.