With the modern diseases (once TB, now cancer) the romantic idea that the disease expresses the character is invariably extended to assert that the character causes the disease -- because it has not expressed itself. Passion moves inward, striking and blighting the deepest cellular recesses.

Art is not only about something; it is something. A work of art is a thing in the world, not just a text or commentary on the world.

Fear of sexuality is the new, disease-sponsored register of the universe of fear in which everyone now lives.

In NY sensuality completely turns into sexuality - no objects for the senses to respond to, no beautiful river, houses, people. Awful smells of the street, and dirt... Nothing except eating, if that, and the frenzy of the bed.

The truth is always something that is told, not something that is known. If there were no speaking or writing, there would be no truth about anything. There would only be what is.

Photographs furnish evidence. Something we hear about, but doubt, seems proven when we're shown a photograph of it.

The only story that seems worth writing is a cry, a shot, a scream. A story should break the reader's heart.