He had her in his heart, but not always in his mind.

What interests me in [Lincoln in the Bardo] is a slight perverse balance between the sublime and the grotesque. Like you could have landed only on the sublime. But my argument is that the sublime couldn't exist without this other half.

In the end, your past is not my past and your truth is not my truth and your solution - is not my solution.

We cannot love something solely because it has been ignored. It must also be worthy of our attention.

I often worry that my idea of personhood is nostalgic, irrational, inaccurate.

You can feel bad... I mean, that's not illegal.

It’s such a confidence trick, writing a novel. The main person you have to trick into confidence is yourself. This is hard to do alone.