“Success sometimes may be defined as a disaster put on hold. Qualified. Has to be.”

in writing, sex doesn’t matter; it’s the writing that matters.

In various and different circumstances certain objects and individuals are going to turn out to be vital. The wager of survival cannot, by its nature, reveal which, in advance of events.

I shall never write an autobiography, I’m much too jealous of my privacy for that.

From Ernest Hemingway’s stories I learned to listen within my stories for what went unsaid by my characters.

If people would forget about utopia! When rationalism destroyed heaven and decided to set it up here on earth, that most terrible of all goals entered human ambition. It was clear there’d be no end to what people would be made to suffer for it.

Nothing factual that I write or say will be as truthful as my fiction.

The tension between standing apart, and being fully involved; that is what makes a writer.

Exile as a mode of genius no longer exists; in place of Joyce we have the fragments of work appearing in Index on Censorship.

People give one another things that can’t be gift wrapped.

Writing is making sense of life. You work your whole life and perhaps you’ve made sense of one small area.

Humans, the only self-regarding animals, blessed or cursed with this torturing higher faculty, have always wanted to know why.

I don’t think I am a citizen of the world; I am very much a citizen of my own country. But my own country is closely related to other parts of the world and influenced by what happens there.

Can you imagine writers influencing things in America? Can you imagine a writer in England influencing? Absolutely not. And in France? It used to be, but no more – absolutely not. France used to, at least, have writers as diplomats, but not any more.

The creative act is not pure. History evidences it. Sociology extracts it. The writer loses Eden, writes to be read and comes to realize that he is answerable.

Keenness of hearing revives when one is alone.

All worthwhile writing… comes from an individual vision, privately pursued.

Come hold me like this earth holds the sky.

And I’ll hug your words like they’re the last things I’ll ever hold.

I’m holding on so tightly to the promise that if nothing lasts forever, someday, this sadness will end too.

She is a planet holding all of life, please take care of her. Her heart is your light.

If you believe in what you are doing, then let nothing hold you up in your work.

Lately, none of what seems to matter when I’m holding you and maybe, baby, we’re getting better.

It is your holy work, to deeply love, honor and respect the precious self that you are, the soul that only you hold.

Trust is the glue that holds an org together & the lubricant that moves it forward.