In my early twenties, that's when I really began to write. Before that, I was too busy working, keeping myself going.

The minute you become conscious that you are doing good, that's the minute you have to stop because from then on it's wrong.

It was hard to reassure grown-ups when you weren't certain yourself what you were feeling and thinking—when thoughts dissolved before you could name them.

I've always known a lot of very bad people, destructive, brutes of a certain kind. Then I've seen these lovely impulses and what not, and they've stayed with me and comforted me.

Words are nets through which all truth escapes.

I like to cook; it is, for me, a happy combination of mindlessness and purpose.

Life is all getting used to what you're not used to.