The city, no matter how small, is corrupt and unrepentant, while the sun shines brighter in the country, making people more wholesome.

I feel, holding books, accommodating their weight and breathing their dust, an abiding love. I trust them, in a way that I can't trust my computer, though I couldn't do without it. Books are matter. My books matter. What would I have done through these years without the library and all its lovely books?

If heaven is tolerant and writers are allowed (bunch of liars though they are), I wonder if they gather for coffee to ponder the prose they should have written instead.

I have had, like most women, a lifelong preoccupation with my weight. My first published short story was a love story between an elderly man and a very young morbidity obese woman.

Because I live in California now, I find my musings really being centered in this world.

The strangest thing about strange things is that they're only strange when you hear about them or think about them later, but never when you're living them.

Art isn't a product. It's an experience