You, Dad, in the large scheme of things, don't matter. I, Dad, don't matter. We're vectors on the grids of cellular life.

Anything processed by memory is fiction.

My medium is prose, not the novel.

Everything I write, I believe instinctively, is to some extent collage. Meaning, ultimately, is a matter of adjacent data.

I don’t know what’s the matter with me, why I’m so adept at distance, why I feel so remote from things, why life feels like a rumor.

A book should either allow us to escape existence or teach us how to endure it.

To me, the moment you're talking about nonfiction you're talking about reality.

If I'm reading a book and it seems truly interesting, I tend to start reading back to front in order not to be too deeply under the sway of progress.

Momentum, in literary mosaic, derives not from narrative but from the subtle, progressive buildup of thematic resonances.

The absence of plot leaves the reader room to think about other things.

Resolution and conclusion are inherent in a plot-driven narrative.

The candle glimmers but an hour. The nightLooms in its ancient hunger. Would you knowThe tragedy of human love and need?Gaze on the stars, then on a brother's face!

It is the same woman, I know, for she is always creeping, and most women do not creep by daylight.

Never make the mistake of believing forberance equates to acceptance, or that all positions are equally valid.

My formula for living is quite simple. I get up in the morning and I go to bed at night. In between, I occupy myself as best I can.

Leadership is found in the action to defeat that which would defeat you… You are made by the struggles you choose.

Where is the man, who, if asked to become a slave, would not hurl back the offer indignantly in the teeth of the oppressor?

You guys going up? Yes, yes, we go up. You may be going a lot higher than you think!

I got offered to do Ben 10. Sue Blu was the [voice] director of that, and I had worked with her - I think she was on Transformers as well. And she was so great.

He moved on, in the centre of a widening circle. He wasn't an enemy, he was a nemesis.

Some drill and bore The solid earth, and from the strata there Extract a register, by which we learn, That he who made it, and reveal'd its date To Moses, was mistaken in its age.