Myths can't be translated as they did in their ancient soil. We can only find our own meaning in our own time.

A Paradox, the doughnut hole. Empty space, once, but now they've learned to market even that. A minus quantity; nothing, rendered edible. I wondered if they might be used-metaphorically, of course-to demonstrate the existence of God. Does naming a sphere of nothingness transmute it into being?

All writers must go from now to once a upon a time; all must go from here to there; all must descend to where the stories are kept; all must take care not to be captured and held immobile by the past.

Not real can tell us about real.

Within one's own family, money is not the measure of things, unless the person is an absolute Scrooge. Only the most extreme kind of monster would put a price on everything.

The heart of Jesus glowed, because it was holy. Holy things glowed in general.

I'm working on my own life story. I don't mean I'm putting it together; no, I'm taking it apart.