I find it interesting to see people - mostly people who are younger than I am - going to considerable trouble to try to reproduce things from an era that was far more physical, from a less virtual day. That fascinates me, because it seems to be symbolic of something going on in the culture itself, and I also have a sort of innate admiration for the stubbornness it requires to actually make those things physically. It's become incredibly difficult. In North America, we've largely forgotten how to do it.

It doesn't matter how fast your modem is if you're being shelled by ethnic separatists.

We are that strange species that constructs artifacts intended to counter the natural flow of forgetting.

I don't much live my life as if I was living in a Raymond Chandler novel, which is probably a good thing.

His smile was the nightmare in my back pocket.(Speaking about Ronald Reagan)

I've always assumed from the beginning that I had relatively few contemporaries among my readership. Not that I was consciously writing for a younger audience but that what I was doing interested a younger audience, or at least threatened them less.

Lost, so small amid that dark, hands grown cold, body image fading down corridors of television sky.