I used to spend all of my time projecting. I was never in the moment. It was always tomorrow or next week or two months from now. That was one of the reasons I always had this sense of anxiety.

Shoot, boy, the country's just fulla folks what knows everything, and don't understand nothing, just fullofem.

I'm scarcely an enfant!

She had only one flaw. She was perfect, otherwise whe was perfect.

A work of art is one of mystery, the one extreme magic; everything else is either arithmetic or biology.

Half the people who snuff people, that's what they want: recognition. Get their picture in the paper.

Most contemporary novelists, especially the American and the French, are too subjective, mesmerized by private demons; theyre enraptured by their navels and confined by a view that ends with their own toes.