In the water I saw my father's face, and that face saw the face of its father, and so on, and so on, reflecting backward to the beginning of time, to the face of God, in whose image we were created.

How beautiful is forgetting! What relief it would be for the world to lose some of its contents.

I think it's a greater risk not to write about 9\11. If you're in my position - a New Yorker who felt the event very deeply and a writer who wants to write about things he feels deeply about - I think it's risky to avoid what's right in front of you.

If we were to one day encounter a form of life more powerful and intelligent than our own, and it regarded us as we regard fish, what would be our argument against being eaten?

My dream went all the way back to the beginning. The rain rose into the clouds, and the animals descended the ramp.

In the end, everyone loses everyone. There was no invention to get around that.

It was not the feeling of completeness I so needed, but the feeling of not being empty.