Love is a glimpse of hope. To love is to hope. When we abandon hope, we cease to exist.

I think it's common sense to shy away from the erotic. Perhaps this grand experiment, which started with Lady Chatterley's Lover, of seeing what you can write and how you can write about sex, has reached a certain weary terminus with Fifty Shades of Grey.

There are words and words and none mean anything. And then one sentence means everything.

What you're constantly seeking isn't a style, but a transparency between your soul and the words. And your soul is ever in flux, so therefore you have to constantly find new forms of words that might be able to register these changes in the soul.

When forging money, I had always salved my conscience by concluding that I was merely extending the lie of commerce.

What reality was ever made by realists?

We live in a material world, not a dramatic one.