The truth is that personality inevitably bleeds into all forms of our intellectual life. We all extrapolate from our own lives in order to understand the world.

There is no reason we should expect young children to enter the nocturnal darkness of sleep and dreams without help.

We read each other through our eyes, and anatomically they are an extension of our brains. When we catch someone's eye, we look into a mind.

Reading is a private pursuit; one that takes place behind closed doors.

There is this assumption that much of what I write is about my life, and that simply is not true.

Not telling is just as interesting as telling I have found. Why speech, that short verbal journey from inside to outside can be excrutiating under certain circumstances is fascinating.

Dreams are stories made by and for the dreamer, and each dreamer has his own folds to open and knots to untie.