Literature was intended to be dangerous. Art was meant to be dangerous. Ideas were nothing if they were not dangerous.

Nothing so completely verifies our perception of a thing as our killing of it.

There are no beginnings, not even to stories. There are only places where you make an entrance into someone else's life and either stay or turn and go away.

I write against violence. I write against fascism. I write against one person dominating another.

I still maintain that an ordinary human being has the right to be horrified by a mangled body seen on an afternoon walk.

They waited. The door did not open. The rain did not stop. The darkness made a tent and covered them completely.

I doubt we will ever be forgiven. All I hope is – they'll remember we were human beings