But it's hard to talk about art. Maybe there should be a law against it, some First Amendment gag order like crying fire in a crowded theater.

The peculiar dignity of men seen eating alone in restaurants on national holidays

I would never write about anyone who is not at the end of his rope.

The furthest out is the only place to be.

Life's tallest order is to keep the feelings up, to make two dollars' worth of euphoria go the distance. And life can't do that. So fiction does.

Writing is an exercise in sculpture, chipping away at the rock until you find the nose.

It's fine, precise, detailed work, the infinitely small motor management of diamond cutters and safecrackers that we do in our heads.