There are souls, he thought, whose umbilicus has never been cut. They never got weaned from the universe. They do not understand death as an enemy; they look forward to rotting and turning into humus.

It had never occurred to me before that music and thinking are so much alike. In fact you could say music is another way of thinking, or maybe thinking is another kind of music.

Art, like sex, cannot be carried on indefinitely solo; after all, they have the same enemy, sterility.

It is very hard for evil to take hold of the unconsenting soul.

I have no control over my writing. I have lots of good intentions, but no control. There's a story that wants to be told.

To oppose something is to maintain it.

The only questions that really matter are the ones you ask yourself.