The furthest out is the only place to be.

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

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.

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.

Like most people of my generation, I fell in love with the philosophy of existentialism. There is no particular religious tradition in my work. There is only one psychological assertion that I would insist upon. That is: the SELF takes precedence.

The furthest out is the only place to be.

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