As an English major I was familiar with the stories of dozens of writers trying to get their work done among the multifarious diversions of the world and the hurdles of their own vices. A professor had said that what saved writers is that they, like politicians, had the illusion of destiny that allowed them to overcome obstacles no matter how nominal their work.

So when I made some money, I didn't have any idea how one handled such a situation because no one in our family ever had any money.

I was on the verge of jumping into one of those holes in life out of which we emerge a bit tattered and bloody, though we remain sure nonetheless that we had to make the jump.

Zen is the vehicle of reality.

Sometimes the only answer to death is lunch.

We Americans are trained to think big, talk big, act big, love big, admire bigness but then the essential mystery is in the small.

I write novellas because I don't like loose sprawling prose.