It's worth your life to order an omelette in most restaurants. You never know what you're going to get.

Norman Mailer thinks William Burroughs is a genius, which I think is ludicrous beyond words. I don't think William Burroughs has an ounce of talent.

I guess if you're that thin and that small you don't need to take up too much space or breathe that much air. You just keep on going.

Those final weeks, spanning end of summer and the beginning of another autumn, are blurred in memory, perhaps because our understanding of each other had reached that sweet depth where two people communicate more often in silence than in words: an affectionate quietness replaces the tensions, the unrelaxed chatter and chasing about that produce a friendship’s more showy, more, in the surface sense, dramatic moments.

Of many magics, one is watching a beloved sleep: free of eyes and awareness, you for a sweet moment hold the heart of him; helpless, he is then all, and however irrationally, you have trusted him to be, man-pure, child-tender.

I also write the last paragraph or page of a story first. That way I always know what I'm working towards.

Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring.