Writing is making sense of life.

In a certain sense a writer is 'selected' by his subject - his subject being the consciousness of his own era.

There is no moral authority like that of sacrifice.

Disaster is private, in its way, as love is.

I'm a candle flame that sways in currents of air you can't see. You need to be the one who steadies me to burn.

I cannot live with someone who can't live without me.

I believe - I know (there are not many things I should care to dogmatize about, on the subject of writing) that writers need solitude, and seek alienation of a kind every day of their working lives. (And remember, they are not even aware when and when not they are working.) ... The tension between standing apart and being fully involved; that is what makes a writer.