Never Say Love Is "like" Anything... It

Every Universe, Our Own Included, Begins In Conversation. Every Golem In The History Of The World, From Rabbi Hanina's Delectable Goat To The River-clay Frankenstein Of Rabbi Judah Loew Ben Bezalel, Was Summoned Into Existence Through Language, Through Murmuring, Recital, And Kabbalistic Chitchat -- Was, Literally, Talked Into Life.

The World Like Our Heads Was Meant To Be Escaped From, They Are Prisons World And Head Alike.

The Midnight Disease Is A Kind Of Emotional Insomnia; At Ever Conscious Moment Its Victim—even If He Or She Writes At Dawn, Or In The Middle Of The Afternoon—feels Like A Person Lying In A Sweltering Bedroom, With The Window Thrown Open, Looking Up At A Sky Filled With Stars And Airplanes, Listening To The Narrative Of A Rattling Blind, An Ambulance, A Fly Trapped In A Coke Bottle, While All Around Him The Neighbours Soundly Sleep.

A Delicate, Inexorable Lattice Of Inferences Began To Assemble Themselves, Like A Crystal, In The Old Man's Mind, Shivering, Catching The Light In Glints And Surmises.

For Me, The Goal Is Always To Write A Novel That I Myself Would Like To Read. People Frequently Ask Me What My Favorite Book Is, And In Effect, There's Always A Capital-f Favorite, Capital-b Book That I Would Like To Write Myself Someday. I Try To Go For That Ideal Of Writing The Best, Most Entertaining, Most Beautifully Written Book That I Possibly Can.