I wanted to forget the past, but it refused to forget me; it waited for sleep, then cornered me.

Tell what is yours to tell. Let others tell what is theirs.

It's in Macbeth: "The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon." I seldom have occasion to pull it out, but it's ready and waiting!

I'm not an activist by nature. I am suspicious of Utopian thinking and equally suspicious of its alternate. I would prefer to stay in the Writing Burrow and play with my imaginary friends and enemies. I get sucked into these things.

You're never going to kill storytelling, because it's built into the human plan. We come with it.

Time is not a thing that passes ... it's a sea on which you float.

Don't let the bastards grind you down. I repeat this to myself but it conveys nothing. You might as well say, Don't let there be air; or Don't be. I suppose you could say that.