Writing is a funny business. You sit in your room and listen to voices and write everything down. What kind of a profession is that?

They knew bullshit, and they knew about the ruling class; dying for a ruling class cause was almost always bullshit.

We continually use stories to hold up as mirrors to ourselves.

A man ... needs to get out in the open air and sweat and blow off the stink.

I had discovered a terrible vulnerability I myself which I think of not as cowardliness but as an ability to imagine too much.

Don't worry about meaning. If a story's any good, it can't help but have meaning. Let the PhDs tell you what your story means.

The specific danger is us; we are rampant; this earth is our only friend; we are destroying it increment by increment at a horrific rate. We must understand that we can't buy it back.