Hey, over here! Have your picture taken with a reclusive author! Today only, we'll throw in a free autograph! But wait, there's more!

Let me be unambiguous. I prefer not to be photographed.

He decided that we suffer from great temporal homesickness for the decade we were born in.

Time is never wasted if you remember to bring along something to read.

Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength.

Behind the hieroglyphic streets there would either be a transcendent meaning, or only the earth.

He gazes through sunlight's buttresses, back down the refectory at the others, wallowing in their plenitude of bananas, thick palatals of their hunger lost somewhere in the stretch of morning between them and himself. A hundred miles of it, so suddenly. Solitude, even among the meshes of this war, can when it wishes so take him by the blind gut and touch, as now, possessively. Pirate's again some other side of a window, watching strangers eat breakfast.