This is the generation whose first cry of life was the Hungarian uprising.
What I like about cities is that everything is king size, the beauty and the ugliness.
...in the business of writing what one accumulates is not expertise but uncertainties. Which is but another name for craft.
What should I say about life? That it's long and abhors transparence.
All the literati keep at least one imaginary friend.
Twentieth-century Russian literature has produced nothing special except perhaps one novel and two stories by Andrei Platonov, who ended his days sweeping streets.