Please, God, Send Me Something To Adore.

How We Dress Is, As Far As I Can Tell, The Only Inescapably Public Choice That We Have. People Don't Need To Know What You Eat, People Don't Need To Know Who You Have Sex With. But There's No Escaping What You Wear And The Fact That You've Chosen It. Even If You Insist That You Don't Care About Fashion, That's Your Statement. It's Really One Realm Of Life Where You Are Forced To Make Your Own Statement.

What Do You Do When You're No Longer The Hero Of Your Own Story?

I Feel Like There's Something Terrible And Wonderful And Amazing That's Just Beyond My Grasp. I Have Dreams About It. I Do Dream, By The Way. It Hovers Over Me At Odd Moments. And Then It's Gone. I Feel Like I'm Always On The Brink Of Something That Never Arrives. I Want To Either Have It Or Be Free Of It.

The Secret Of Flight Is This -- You Have To Do It Immediately, Before Your Body Realizes It Is Defying The Laws.

Here's A Secret. Many Novelists, If They Are Pressed And If They Are Being Honest, Will Admit That The Finished Book Is A Rather Rough Translation Of The Book They'd Intended To Write.