As the most recently arrived to earthly life, children can seem in lingering possession of some heavenly lidless eye.

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.

What do I do when writing isn't going well? Well, I don't write - which is symptom, cure, and cause. And then sometimes I just tell myself, as I'm writing, "I'll fix it later." And sometimes it's true, I do.

Adults are living increasingly as children: completely in their imaginations. Reading Harry Potter while every newspaper in the country goes out of business. They know so little that is real.

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

Perhaps we had at last reached that stage of intimacy that destroys intimacy.

I've accrued a kind of patience, I believe, loosely like change.