He came to this country like a torch on fire and he swallowed air as he walked forward and he gave out light

Jung was absolutely right about one thing. We are occupied by gods. The mistake is to identify with the god occupying you.

Snap. Lady with dog. Lady on sofa half-naked. Snap. Naked lady. Lady next to dresser. Lady at window. Snap. Lady on balcony sunlight. (On New Orleans photographer E. J. Bellocq)

I don't have a plan for a story when I sit down to write. I would get quite bored carrying it out.

I often need a limited space. It's like having a house to roam around in and reinvent and have things to happen in, kind of like a French farce. Doors opening, doors closing, new people arriving, and disappearing, and so forth.

Nowadays he doesn't think of his wife, though he knows he can turn around and evoke every move of her, describe any aspect of her, the weigh of her wrist on his heart during the night.

When I read biographies, I skip the first thirty pages about the childhood because it doesn't seem interesting to me.