For the first time driving that day I could feel the motion of the Earth. The Earth rushing through the emptiness of space. Spinning on its axis but they say you don't feel it, you can't experience it. But to feel it is to be scared and happy at once and to know that nothing matters but that you do what you want to do and what you do you are. And I knew I was moving into the future. There is not PAST anybody can get to, to alter things or ever to know what those things were but there is definitely a future, we are already in it.

The ideal art, the noblest of art: working with the complexities of life, refusing to simplify, to "overcome" doubt.

I want to tell you that I love you I want to tell you that I love you I want to tell you that I love I love I love I love but you do not.

Literature, art, like civilization itself, are only accidents.

It is only through disruptions and confusion that we grow, jarred out of ourselves by the collision of someone else's private world with our own.

The despairing soul is a rebel.

Detroit, my 'great' subject, made me the person I am, consequently the writer I am - for better or worse.