Hardly anyone about whom I deeply care at all resembles anyone else I have ever met, or heard of, or read about in literature.

There follows a little obscenity here, a dash of philosophy there, considerable whining overall, and a modern satirical novel is born.

Writing about writing is a bit like talking about a conversation you are having; it tends to obscure desperation about where the next word is coming from.

There are so many different types of writers. It's just sheer coincidence that they're all called writers.

There is a difference, of course, between real sentiment and the trash of shared experience.

Fear . . . is forward. No one is afraid of yesterday.

Sanity ... is the most profound moral option of our time.