The great thing about my life is that everything I've done is a result of what I was when I was 12 or 13.

You take the books, you lie there in the pools of light and you drink life. That is how intensely I have loved libraries.

Miraculously, smoke curled out of his own mouth, his nose, his ears, his eyes, as if his soul had been extinguished within his lungs at the very moment the sweet pumpkin gave up its incensed ghost.

I'm not in control of my muse. My muse does all the work.

It takes writing a billion bad words before you get to the good ones.

Everything that happens before Death is what counts.

Christ is one of the 'family' now. I often wonder if God recognizes his own son the way we've dressed him up, or is it dressed him down? He's regular peppermint stick now, all sugar crystal and saccharine - when he isn't making veiled references to certain commercial products that ever worshiper absolutely needs.