Memory was supposed to fill the time, but it made time a hole to be filled.

How would you judge an artist who mutilated animals in a gallery because it was visually arresting? How riveting would the sound of a tortured animal need to be to make you want to hear it that badly? Try to imagine any end other than taste for which it would be justifiable to do what we do to farmed animals.

It is my great hope that our paths, however long and winding, will cross again.

Marriage is like a chess match is initiated and the board expands over time until it takes up all of a life.

I asked my schoolmate Mary to write a letter to me. She was funny and full of life. She liked to run around her empty house without any clothes on, even once she was too old for that. Nothing embarrassed her. I admired that so much, because everything embarrassed me, and that hurt me. She loved to jump on her bed. She jumped on her bed for so many years that one afternoon, while I watched her jump, the seams burst. Feathers filled the small room. Our laughter kept the feathers in the air. I thought about birds. Could they fly if there wasn’t someone, somewhere, laughing?

All really great artists, Jackson Pollack, John Cage, Beckett or Joyce - you are never indifferent to them.

His voice was handsome and broken, like a cobblestone street.