There's a lot of thievery involved in writing. You're breaking into other people's spaces and other people's stories.

I believe in such cartography – to be marked by nature, not just label ourselves on a map like the names of rich men and women on buildings. We are communal histories, communal books. ... All I desired was to walk upon such an earth that had no maps.

People don't write about kids; you have to give them a lot of freedom, and that causes anarchy and that causes farce.

What began it all was the bright bone of a dream I could hardly hold onto.

The joyful will stoop with sorrow, and when you have gone to the earth I will let my hair grow long for your sake, I will wander through the wilderness in the skin of a lion

Here. Where I am anonymous and alone in a white room with no history and no parading. So I can make something unknown in the shape of this room. Where I am King of Corners.

Men had always been the reciters of poetry in the desert.