When every inch of the world is known, sleep may be the only wilderness that we have left.

This so gnawed at him on some nights that he lay awake wondering just how many unknown and similarly inconsequential accidents and bits of happenstance were at this moment occurring or failing to occur in order to ensure he took his next breath, and the next.

It kills your writing if you try to manipulate it with crude politics.

Money helps, though not so much as you think when you don't have it.

To think about love and passion and political correctness all together, it doesn't work. Art has to go way past the political to be effective.

All through my life I never did believe in human measurement. Numbers, time, inches, feet. All are just ploys for cutting nature down to size. I know the grand scheme of the world is beyond our brains to fathom, so I don't try, just let it in.

If, as I suspect, my body survives by uttering itself over and over again, then I have some questions. If [I] am one word, so are my daughters, so are all of us in strings and loops. Each life is one short word slowly uttered.