In London, the weather would affect me negatively. I react strongly to light. If it is cloudy and raining, there are clouds and rain in my soul.

Persons who have been homeless carry within them a certain philosophy of life which makes them apprehensive about ownership.

There's a place beyond words where experience first occurs to which I always want to return. I suspect that whenever I articulate my thoughts or translate my impulses into words, I am betraying the real thoughts and impulses which remain hidden.

The planned sit-down reception is an artificial forum where one is presented with a limited number of persons with whom he can hold a conversation.

I always have a sense of trembling, but so does a compass, after all.

And really the purpose of art - for me, fiction - is to alert, to indicate to stop, to say: Make certain that when you rush through you will not miss the moment which you might have had, or might still have.

You don't die in the United States, you underachieve.