People love gossip because it's slightly removed from actuality. It's a very literary thing... You can hear a great story, and it turns out that it's largely not true. Fiction writing is like gossip. It's not malicious gossip, but it's gossip.

For love to last, you had to have illusions or have no illusions at all. But you had to stick to one or the other. It was the switching back and forth that endangered things.

If I retain any freshness of approach, it's by going slowly having long intervals between finished projects.

I've come to realize that life, while being everything, is also strangely not much. Except when the light shines on it a different way and then you realize it's a lot after all!

I had never feared insomnia before--like prison, wouldn't it just give you more time to read?

Surrealism could not be made up. It was the very electricity of the real.

I would never understand photography, the sneaky, murderous taxidermy of it.