The more you know about something, the harder it becomes. You become more and more of a perfectionist. I think it's a curse... It's a form of illness!

I feel that all a writer has is his own experience.

We all, sometimes, leave each other there under the skies, and we never understand why.

A disquieting loneliness came into my life, but it induced no hunger for friends of longer acquaintance: they seemed now like a salt-free, sugarless diet.

People who are having a love-sex relationship are continuously lying to each other because the very nature of the relationship demands that they do, because you have to make a love object of this person, which means that you editorialize about them. You cut out what you don't want to see, you add this if it isn't there. And so therefore you're building a lie.

[T]he army of wrongness rampant in the world might as well march over me.

Anyone who ever gave you confidence, you owe them a lot.