If you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart.

I planned my death carefully, unlike my life, which meandered along from one thing to another, despite my feeble attempts to control it.

Her glass wings are gone.

In Heaven, there are no debts - all have been paid, one way or another - but in Hell there's nothing but debts, and a great deal of payment is exacted, though you can't ever get all paid up. You have to pay, and pay, and keep on paying. So Hell is like an infernal maxed-out credit card that multiplies the charges endlessly.

Your friend is intellectually honourable," Jimmy's mother would say. "He doesn't lie to himself.

When I was 16, I started publishing all kinds of things in school magazines.

What a lost person needs is a map of the territory, with his own position marked on it so he can see where he is in relation to everything else. Literature is not only a mirror; it is also a map, a geography of the mind. Our literature is one such map, if we can learn to read it as our literature, as the product of who and where we have been. We need such a map desperately, we need to know about here, because here is where we live. For the members of a country or a culture, shared knowledge of their place, their here, is not a luxury but a necessity. Without that knowledge we will not survive.