I think whenever we think of our hometowns, we tend to think of very specific people: with whom you rode on the school bus, who was your next door neighbor you were playing with, who your girlfriend was. It's always something very specific.

One man's insanity is another man's genius; someday the world will recognize the genius in my insanity.

Writing is a consequence of having been 'haunted' by material. Why this is, no one knows.

You wake up one morning, those years are gone. There's a comfort in this fact perhaps. I want to think that there must be comfort in all facts we can't alter.

Flying fosters fantasies of childhood, of omnipotence, rapid shifts of being, miraculous moments; it stirs our capacity for dreaming.

We are stimulated to emotional response, not by works that confirm our sense of the world, but by works that challenge it.

A writer can't subtract or excise any of his/her past because doing so would erase the work produced during that time.