I think I write or publish as much as I do because I can bear being without a book to work on.

Actually we did not have the feelings we said we had until we spoke them--at least I didn't; to phrase them was to invent them and own them.

Stop worrying about growing old. And think about growing up.

There is truth and then again there is truth. For all that the world is full of people who go around believing they've got you or your neighbor figured out, there really is no bottom to what is not known. The truth about us is endless. As are the lies.

I think I write or publish as much as I do because I can bear being without a book to work on. But routinely when I finish a book, I think, "What will I do? Where will I get an idea?" And a kind of low-level panic sets in. And then eventually something happens. I don't know. If I knew how it happened I would repeat the process, but I don't know - something just occurs to me.

I often have to write a hundred pages or more before there's a paragraph that's alive.

Is an intelligent human being likely to be much more than a large-scale manufacturer of misunderstanding?