Before brains there was no color or sound in the universe, nor was there any flavor or aroma and probably little sense and no feeling or emotion.
The world is crawling with authors touring now. They're like performance artists.
But then, I suppose, when with the benefit of hindsight one begins to search one's past for such 'turning points', one is apt to start seeing them everywhere.
I think of my pile of old paperbacks, their pages gone wobbly, like they'd once belonged to the sea.
Memory is quite central for me. Part of it is that I like the actual texture of writing through memory.
Typically in my novels the narrator tells a story by remembering, and the memories are colored by this and colored by that. So the whole universe of the novel tends to be framed by the narrator's memories and thoughts.
Perhaps one day, all these conflicts will end, and it won't be because of great statesmen or churches or organisations like this one. It'll be because people have changed. They'll be like you, Puffin. More a mixture. So why not become a mongrel? It's healthy.
When lost, I look for gas stations for counsel.
New York had all the iridescence of the beginning of the world.
If society gives up the right to impose the death penalty, then self-help will appear again and personal vendettas will be around the corner.
We can no longer let the threat of an early frost send a chill of fear throughout a large portion of our workforce. Diversification is the only answer.