I Often Felt Myself To

I Moved To New York With The Derangement Of Love. I Was Writing All These Terrible Stories, But I Had Never Been Happier.

I Came To Hate The Complainers, With Their Dry And Crumbly Lipsticks And Their Wrinkled Rage And Their Stupid, Flaccid, Old-people Sun Hats With Brims The Breadth Of Saturn's Rings.

If You're Short On Time, That Would Be The Two-word Version Of Our Story: We Fell.

I Do Think That I Have A More Flexible View Of The Interactions Between People, And Between Human And Non-human Protagonists, Humans And Their Landscapes.

America's Great Talent, I Think, Is To Generate Desires That Would Never Have Occurred, Natively,... And To Make Those Desires So Painfully Real That Money Becomes A Fiction, An Imaginary Means To Some Concrete End.