I'm sixty-two, and it's ecological sense to die while you're still productive, die and clear a space for others, old and young.

God is an immensity, while this disease, this death, which is in me, this small, tightly defined pedestrian event, is merely and perfectly real, without miracle—or instruction.

I look upon another's insistence on the merits of his or her life - duties, intellect, accomplishment - and see that most of it is nonsense.

It is like visiting one's funeral, like visiting loss in its purest and most monumental form, this wild darkness, which is not only unknown but which one cannot enter as oneself.

Memory, so complete and clear or so evasive, has to be ended, has to be put aside, as if one were leaving a chapel and bringing the prayer to an end in one's head.

I am in an adolescence in reverse, as mysterious as the first, except that this time I feel it as a decay of the odds that I might live for a while, that I can sleep it off.

Public radio is alive and kicking, it always has been

Death and I are head to head in a total collision, pure and mutual distaste.

Being ill like this combines shock - this time I will die - with a pain and agony that are unfamiliar, that wrench me out of myself.

True stories, autobiographical stories, like some novels, begin long ago, before the acts in the account, before the birth of some of the people in the tale.

I feel sorry for the man who marries you... because everyone thinks you're sweet and you're not.

Bravery doesn't always mean that you have to be fearless. No one in this world fears nothing, so if you are fearless, then you are no one.

If necessity is the mother of invention, scientifically developed production is the mother of scientific research.

Sometimes you fail your chemistry test and other times it's explosive.

I have the capacity to express what I feel needs to be expressed. And I try to do what I believe in.

Successful people believe in the validity of their own dreams and goals, even if dreams are all they have to go on.

A long tongue is a signe of a short hand. [A long tongue is a sign of a short hand.]

I think it's all to the good that a writer shouldn't be too famous. Because, in a country where a writer may be famous, he may be pandering to the mob, celebrity and so on.

Relationships are like farting, If you push too hard things could get messy real fast.

Im just interested in what makes a photograph.

If you don't know what port you are sailing to, no wind is favourable.