Impossible not to imagine the dead observing us. Our love for them a soft, shimmering gossamar that trails behind us.

Paradox: how do we know what we have failed to see because we have no language to express it, thus we cannot know that we have failed to see it.

Though I revise constantly as I write, I will usually revise much of the work again after I've reached the ending.

For politics is in its essence as Adams had said, the 'systematic organization of hatred': either you were organized or you were not.

Writing is the most solitary of arts.

I've never given up. I've always kept going. I don't feel that I could afford to give up. That would be the beginning of the end.

Food doesn't exist, but can only be invented. And reinvented.