I don't ask myself what did I live for, said Carlene strongly. That is a man's question. I ask whom did I live for.

Oh, I know that. You know me, baby, I cannot be broken. Takes a giant to snap me in half.

I cannot believe homosexuality is that much fun. Heterosexuality certainly is not.

All novels attempt to cut neural routes through the brain, to convince us that down this road the true future of the novel lies.

As far as I'm concerned, if you want to find out about the last day of WWII or the roots of the Indian Mutiny, get thee to a books catalogue.

Tell the truth through whichever veil comes to hand - but tell it.

My short stories have always pushed twenty pages. That's no length for a short story to be. You either do them short like Carver or you stop trying.