Good fiction is made of that which is real, and reality is difficult to come by.
There are few things in the world as dangerous as sleepwalkers.
By and large, the critics and readers gave me an affirmed sense of my identity as a writer. You might know this within yourself, but to have it affirmed by others is of utmost importance. Writing is, after all, a form of communication.
Eclecticism is the word. Like a jazz musician who creates his own style out of the styles around him, I play by ear.
The end is in the beginning and lies far ahead.
The understanding of art depends finally upon one’s willingness to extend one’s humanity and one’s knowledge of human life.
Had the price of looking been blindness, I would have looked.
Hibernation is a covert preparation for a more overt action.
I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me.
When I discover who I am, I’ll be free.
The act of writing requires a constant plunging back into the shadow of the past where time hovers ghostlike.
I am not ashamed of my grandparents for having been slaves. I am only ashamed of myself for having at one time being ashamed.
Some people are your relatives but others are your ancestors, and you choose the ones you want to have as ancestors. You create yourself out of those values.
If the word has the potency to revive and make us free, it has also the power to blind, imprison, and destroy.
Life is to be lived, not controlled, and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat.