There’s nothing more embarrassing than to have earned the disfavor of a perceptive animal.
Drunk, Jane spoke as though she were Nancy Drew. I was a fool for a girl with a dainty lexicon.
I love the internet and it has been incredibly useful and I have made discoveries that have been immeasurably crucial to my work- things I don’t know how I ever would have found out otherwise, that are perfect, just what I need for whatever I’m doing.
[While writing], I’ll go anywhere I find that is quiet, has no internet. I have a big internet problem.
Novelist time is reptile time; novelists tend to be ruminant and brooding, nursers of ancient grievances, second-guessers, Tuesday afternoon quarterbacks, retrospectators, endlessly, like slumping hitters, studying the film of their old whiffs.
I saw a lot of lousy movies and watched a ton of crappy television and read a bunch of utterly forgettable books and comics and listened to hours of junk music as a kid. And I’m still drawing profitably in my own art on some of the tawdry treasure I stored up in those years.
Poor little librarians of the world, those girls, secretly lovely, their looks marred forever by the cruelty of a pair of big dark eyeglasses!
As long as she was falling in love with me, I might as well start making her promises I didn’t intend to keep.
His dreams had always been Houdiniesque: they were the dreams of a pupa struggling in its blind cocoon, mad for a taste of light and air.
I don’t do a lot of foisting, because when it comes to books I don’t really like to be foisted upon.
The First Amendment has the same role in my life as a citizen and a writer as the sun has in our ecosystem.
The truth of some promises is not as important as whether or not you can believe in them, with all your heart.