My protagonists are my mother's voice and the mind I had when I was thirteen.

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.

I am too much alien and not enough monkey to fit in here.

Kiss away the past as you head towards the future.

I don't know if I've owned a piece of technology that I hated - I don't think I would have owned it then.

I only please myself. I figure I'm just one of many people. I'm not that different from anybody else and I don't have great language - I'm very ordinary.

Six senses keeping Five around a sense of self

I live in a bus and go from place to place and sometimes feel very detached from what's going on

The people are angry. It's running out of control. And unfortunately, there are a group of police that have become nothing more than enforcers for the political and financial crime bosses.

What most of us are after, when we have a picture taken, is a good natural-looking picture that doesn't resemble us.

If you would not be known to do anything, never do it.

Ecstasy hates company.