“There came a time when you realized that moving on was pointless. That you took yourself with you wherever you went.”

“Storytelling always changes time.”

“Ben Hanscom… feels the wall of time grow suddenly thin; some terrible/wonderful peristalsis has begun to take place. He thinks: My God, I am being digested by my own past.”

“He had never been a social man. He had shunned causes with contempt and disgust. They were for pig-simple suckers and people with too much time and money on their hands”

“Time, Eddie had decided during this period, was in large part created by external events. When a lot of interesting shit was happening, time seemed to go by fast. If you got stuck with nothing but the usual boring shit, it slowed down. And when everything stopped happening, time apparently quit altogether. Just packed up and went to Coney Island. Weird but true.”

“In the end, the wind takes everything, doesn’t it? And why not? Why other? If the sweetness of our lives did not depart, there would be no sweetness at all.”

“Time heals all wounds.”

“Time’s the thief of memory”

“The woman who preaches has poison religion. Let the respectable ones go”

“Oh no, praying is great, without it the thumbscrews and the Iron Maiden probably never would have been invented.”

“Every man or woman who loves Him, they hate Him too, because He’s a hard God, a jealous God.”

“It seems to occur to few of the attendees [of a writing retreat] that if you have a feel you just can’t describe, you might just be, I don’t know, kind of like, my sense of it is, maybe in the wrong fucking class.”

“There’s an old rule of theater that goes, ‘If there’s a gun on the mantel in Act I, it must go off in Act III.’ The reverse is also true.”

“What about reality, you ask? Well, as far as I’m concerned, reality can go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut. I’ve never held much of a brief for reality, at least in my written work. All too often it is to the imagination what ash stakes are to vampires.”

“One of the really bad things you can do to your writing is to dress up the vocabulary, working for long words because you’re maybe a little bit ashamed of your short ones. This is like dressing up a household pet in evening clothes. The pet is embarrassed, and the person who committed this act of premeditated cuteness should be even more embarrassed.”