Let us now celebrate the literary allusion.

Certainly I'm angry at the way Indians have been treated and continue to be treated. But I don't think it's a helpless emotion.

If one reads enough books one has a fighting chance. Or better, one's chances of survival increase with each book one reads.

In a sense, you're always mythologizing your life; it's always an effort to make yourself epic. At least in fiction you can lie and sort of justify your delusion about your "epicness." But when you're writing a memoir, you're trying to make your life epic and it's not - nobody's life is.

She was in pain and I loved her, sort of loved her, I guess, so I kind of had to love her pain, too.

In the middle of a crazy and drunk life, you have to hang onto the good and sober moments tightly.

Estranged from the tribe that gives no protection, What happens to the soul that hates its reflection?