Language is as fragile as the little alpine plant.

If it's a drop of dew, it will dissolve.

I think those of us who use language are always trying for this, trying to keep everything from floating away by trying to write about it despite failure.

I'm really interested in what you remember, how you remember, what your perspective is as opposed to somebody else's.

One of the reasons I like immersing myself in different texts, putting myself in the company of other writers, is that they do change your vocabulary. They change what you write about or they change the length of lines.

Gardens do offer a temporal tableau and certainly mean differently in different eras and indeed geographies (think of the formal gardens in France).

I want literature to open all the doors that I can't open by myself, and to allow me to see things that I wouldn't otherwise see.