I'm not the only one: witness Pokemon! They still keep coming up with this stuff that just rivets us in unexpected areas.

A lot of the buildings [in Toronto] around Yonge and Bloor is the architectural equivalent of Kipper Ties and 8" collar points. It's ghastly and no amount of street-level retail glitz can lift it.

The deadliest bullshit is odorless, and transparent.

I think with one exception I've never changed an opening sentence after a book was completed.

To the very limited extent that I have a political consciousness, to some extent I'm a lazy, apolitical sort of guy that just flits around.

He'd been numb a long time, years. All his nights down Ninsei, his nights with Linda, numb in bed and numb at the cold sweating center of every drug deal. But now he'd found this warm thing, this chip of murder. Meat, some part of him said. It's the meat talking, ignore it.

Naps are essential to my process. Not dreams, but that state adjacent to sleep, the mind on waking.