It is a bizarre thought that in this [U.S. 2008] presidential cycle we could have had a woman in the White House we might have a black man in the White House but if either of them had said they were atheists neither of them would have had a hope in hell.

But I’ve been turning over in my mind the question of nostalgia, and whether I suffer from it. I certainly don’t get soggy at the memory of some childhood knickknack; nor do I want to deceive myself sentimentally about something that wasn’t even true at the time—love of the old school, and so on. But if nostalgia means the powerful recollection of strong emotions—and a regret that such feelings are no longer present in our lives—then I plead guilty.

Every love story is a potential grief story.

In life, every ending is just the start of another story.

There is accumulation. There is responsibility. And beyond this there is great unrest.

WHORES. Necessary in the nineteenth century for the contraction of syphilis, without which no one could claim genius.

I'm a novelist, so I can't write about ideas unless they're attached to people.