When I was younger, the main struggle was to be a 'good writer.' Now I more or less take my writing abilities for granted, although this doesn't mean I always write well.

The problem with making a virtual world of oneself is akin to the problem with projecting ourselves onto a cyberworld: there’s no end of virtual spaces in which to seek stimulation, but their very endlessness, the perpetual stimulation without satisfaction, becomes imprisoning.

The reader is a friend, not an adversary, not a spectator.

You encountered a misery near the end of the day and it took a while to gauge its full extent. Some miseries had sharp curvature and could be negotiated readily. Others had almost no curvature and you knew you'd be spending hours turning the corner. Great whopping-big planet-sized miseries.

But nothing disturbs the feeling of specialness like the presence of other human beings feeling identically special.

Good novels are produced by people who voluntarily isolate themselves and go deep, and report from the depths on what they find.

We may freak out globally, but we suffer locally.