It seems to me that my lack of faith is not, as I once thought, a triumph of the rational mind, but rather a failure of the imagination - an inability to tolerate mistery.

...what is romance, but a mutual pact of delusion? When the pact ends , there's nothing left.

It's hard to resist the magical thinking that the work habits of great writers are the key to their greatness.

It seems to me that my lack of faith is not, as I once thought, a triumph of the rational mind, but rather a failure of the imagination - an inability to tolerate mistery.

Somewhere between sanity and madness lays a fine line, for some it is a tightrope walked daily, a fight for balance to be won or lost. That fight is lost one of two ways. Some simply lose their balance and fall, others are pushed.

When you live alone, your furnishings, your possessions, are always confronting you with the thinness of your existence.

I don't write books for people to be friends with the characters. If you want to find friends, go to a cocktail party.