The real past can traumatize us, but so can the real future.

The idea that language can be recombined to create new forms, new things, is of course very old in poetry.

Paranoia can be a sign of a sanity in some circumstances, in some places and times.

The novel's not the best form for disposing ideas, though that's one thing it can do. It likely is the best form, though, for conveying the experience of us each being alone, trapped in our skulls with only these bodies and this imperfect instrument of language to convey our state and to find meaning and connection.

I just write what I want to read, and sometimes keeping it interesting means adding one more element that ends up adding another year to the work.

There's some evidence that before events of mass trauma, even unpredictable ones, people begin to feel higher anxiety, often expressed in terms specific to the event.

We're getting used to reality and fantasy passing into each other. Much of the border between them has been erased.