Happiness. It comes on unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really, any early morning talk about it.

The fiction Im most interested in has lines of reference to the real world.

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

I guess my writing has changed as my life has.

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

You've got to work with your mistakes until they look intended. Understand?

Every great or even every very good writer makes the world over according to his own specifications.