I don't know whose sensibility I'm responding to. Until someone starts pushing against what they've inherited and starts making their own decisions about language, it's difficult.

The act of language or the act of denying language carries its own heaviness.

Giving the reader the space to move around and be active, and encourage their active response is important to me. That will connect the reader more to the text.

There's relief in white space for the reader.

Synesthesia has interested me for a long time, both as a literary device and as a puncturing of the membranes that organize how the world comes into someone's head.

I have what I came to find in my research is a mild form of synesthesia, though I never would have labeled it as such. It's how I think about numbers and letters. They all have inherent genders.

For me, the genders are an essential element of numbers and letters, not something that could be removed from them.

If a synesthetic person says the letter a is green, it can't ever be anything but green.

I'm always interested in encountering people who are synesthetic and seeing how they experience things.

I find myself writing protagonists who do feel pretty cut off from others but who want to make connections and aren't very good at it.

Even in so-called realist or conventional writing there can be defamiliarization.

Successful self-actualization can prevent inferiority complexes

You are the rainbow that adds color to my gray skies.

Love puts itself first, and makes its own plans. It maps you out instead. Maybe that's what makes it perfect

My mum translated this in her head to "witchfinder, " which was good because like most West Africans, she considered witchfinding a more respectable profession than policeman.

Besides, if I am truly immortal, I am my own grandchild, my own descendant, my own dynasty. I am not obliged to live on through what I pass down to others.

Anyone who doesn't speak English isn't worth speaking to

As a bee without harming the flower, its colour or scent, flies away, collecting only the honey, even so should the sage wander in the village.

Here or nowhere is our heaven.

The idea of Dumbledore's corpse frightened Harry much less than the possibility that he might have misunderstood the living Dumbledore's intentions.

It's confusing. I've had so many wives and so many children I don't know which house to go to first on Christmas.