What reality was ever made by realists?

A good book ... leaves you wanting to reread the book. A great book compels you to reread your own soul.

Writing reminds you that you're never alone. Writing and reading is to be optimistic.

Literary prizes serve a purpose if they allow for discussion of books.

I think empathy's a terrible danger for a writer.

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.

What reality was ever made by realists?