We write to discover what we think.

It Was Once Suggested to Me that, as an Antidote to Crying, I Put My Head in a Paper Bag.

Grammar is a piano I play by ear.

To assign unanswered letters their proper weight, to free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves--there lies the great, the singular power of self-respect. Without it, one eventually discovers the final turn of the screw: one runs away to find oneself, and finds no one at home.

We imagined we knew everything the other thought, even when we did not necessarily want to know it, but in fact, I have come to see, we knew not the smallest fraction of what there was to know.

I have not been the witness I wanted to be.

On the whole, I don't want to think too much about why I write what I write. If I know what I'm doing ... I can't do it.