I'm a Cubs fan. As a kid, the Cubs were my team.
For me, truth cracks open in the places where things do not cohere. That's how life is.
It was not the case that one thing morphed into another, child into woman. You remained the person you were before things happened to you. The person you were when you thought a small cut string could determine the course of a year. You also became the person to whom certain things happened. Who passed into the realm where you no longer questioned the notion of being trapped in one form. You took on that form, that identity, hoped for its recognition from others, hoped someone would love it and you.
Every person has a range. In fiction, you get to be it all. I’m as much the men in my book as I am the women. I write how I write and there is no mission to stake a claim.
And here I arrive at my point. The point is that everyone has a different dream. The point is that it is a grave mistake to assume your dream is in any way shared, that it’s a common dream. Not only is it not shared, not common, there is no reason to assume that other people don’t find you and your dream utterly revolting.
I don't quite see the 20th century as one of chaos. But I believe in certain inevitable outcomes of a materialist nature.
I was doing that thing the infatuated do, stitching destiny onto the person we want stitched to us.
Nothing is easier than to simplify life and them make a philosophy about it. The trouble is that the resulting philosophy is true only of that simplified life.
I think human beings make life beautiful. There's a lot of beauty in everything. I think what makes life beautiful is the ability to acknowledge that.
I learned it by doing it, and I was scared to death.
I am very emotionally affected by sound. Sounds are the inexplicable. . . There is a sound you hear in your head, it's your nerves, or your blood running.