I knew that at least a few of the stars I saw were probably gone already, collapsed into nothing. I felt like I was looking at a lie. But I didn't mind. The world makes liars of us all.

I'm always most interested in writing about things that I don't understand.

I understood that 'The Yellow Birds' would be a peculiar representation of the experience of being at war. I intended it to be so.

I understand that it's incredibly difficult to watch what's happening on the news every day and not become inured to it. I've fallen victim to that myself, wanting to look away.

There is a sharp distinction between what is remembered, what is told and what is true.

I guess I find the boundaries between poetry and prose to be somewhat permeable.

To understand the world, one’s place in it, is to be always at the risk of drowning.