Farts come from no one and nowhere; they are anonymous emanations that belong to the group as a whole, and even when every person in the room can point to the culprit, the only sane course of action is denial.

Each book I've done somehow finds its own unique form, a specific way it has to be written, and once I find it, I stick with it.

We construct a narrative for ourselves, and that's the thread that we follow from one day to the next. People who disintegrate as personalities are the ones who lose that thread.

My characters, I find them as I'm writing. It's quite incredible how fully realized they are in my mind, how many details I know about each of them.

I think I hate cynicism more than anything else. It's the curse of our age, and I want to avoid it at all costs.

It often happens that things are other than what they seem, and you can get yourself into trouble by jumping to conclusions.

I feel I'm discovering something new, a different rhythm, and I guess these rhythms have a lot to do with walking, too, but it's a longer trajectory now. I'm traveling greater distances with each sentence. But I don't write about walking that much anymore.