There is no God, and conversation is a dying art.

there isn't enough of anything as long as we live. But at intervals a sweetness appears and, given a chance prevails.

You're a beautiful drunk, daughter. But you're a drunk.

My circumstances of unrelieved responsibility and permanent distraction necessitated the short story form.

What good are insights? They only make things worse.

Anyone can express himself or herself, but what writers and poets want to do in their work, more than simply express themselves, is communicate.

Life and death matters, yes. And the question of how to behave in this world, how to go in the face of everything. Time is short and the water is rising.