I was on the verge of something numinous and profound and in one more second the universe was going to crack open and arcana would rain down on my head like grace and all the cosmic mysteries were going to be revealed.

Because I write fiction, I don't write autobiography, and to me they are very different things. The first-person narrative is a very intimate thing, but you are not addressing other people as 'I' - you are inhabiting that 'I.'

I am mad, I think. I am mad therefore I think. I am mad therefore I think I am.

The past is what you take with you.

I have been to the world's end and back and now I know what I would put in my bottom drawer .I would put my sisters.

I feel as if I’m waiting for something dreadful to happen, and then I realize it already has.

I think about death a lot, I really do, because I can't believe I won't exist. It's the ego isn't it? I feel that I should retreat into a better form of Zen Buddhism than this kind of ego-dominated thing. But I don't know, I mean, I want to come back as a tree but I suspect that it's just not going to happen, is it?