The Eskimos had fifty-two names for snow because it was important to them: there ought to be as many for love.

Walter turned on the radio: electric violins wailing, twisted romance, the four-square beat of heartbreak. Trite suffering, but suffering nonetheless. The entertainment business. What voyeurs we have all become.

If you're not annoying somebody, you're not really alive.

Writing of the narrative kind, and perhaps all writing, is motivated deep down, by a fear or and fascination with mortality - by a desire to make the risky trip to the underworld and to bring something or someone back from the dead.

he might die for her, but living for her would be quite different.

If you DJ reality, that is, if you make a mash-up of actual reality, you're going to end up with something that inevitably people will say, "This is feminist." Because you cannot avoid that.

Vanity is becoming a nuisance, I can see why women give it up, eventually. But I'm not ready for that yet.