Writing Is An Exploration. You Start From

Communists Have No Respect For People, Only For Positions.

Images Break With A Small Ping, Their Destruction Is As Wonderful As Their Being, They Are Essentially Instruments Of Torture Exploding Through The Individual's Calloused Capacity To Feel Undifferentiated Emotions Full Of Longing And Dissatisfaction And Monumentality.

And So Do People Pass Out Of One's Life And All You Can Remember Of Them Is Their Humanity, A Poor Fitful Thing Of No Dominion, Like Your Own.

Writing A Novel Is Like Driving A Car At Night. Sometimes You Run Over A Drunk Who's Lain Down And Fallen Asleep On The Warm Pavement. I Mean, Do You Keep Going, Or What?

I Have Been Everywhere Because I Don't Know What I'm Looking For.