I Admire Your Capacity For Admiring.

And Silence Of The Lambs Is A Really Smart Book.

Expecting A Novel To Bear The Weight Of Our Whole Disturbed Society—to Help Solve Our Contemporary Problems—seems To Me A Peculiarly American Delusion. To Write Sentences Of Such Authenticity That Refuge Can Be Taken In Them: Isn't This Enough? Isn't It A Lot?

It's Very Liberating For Me To Realize That I Don't Have To Step Up To The Plate With A Plot That Involves The U.n. Security Council.

He Had A Happy Canine Way Of Seeking Approval Without Seeming Insecure.

She Wondered: How Could People Respond To These Images If Images Didn't Secretly Enjoy The Same Status As Real Things? Not That Images Were So Powerful, But That The World Was So Weak. It Could Be Read, Certainly, In Its Weakness, As On Days When The Sun Baked Fallen Apples In Orchards And The Valley Smelled Like Cider, And Cold Nights When Jordan Had Driven Chadds Ford For Dinner And The Tires Of Her Chevrolet Had Crunched On The Gravel Driveway; But The World Was Fungible Only As Images. Nothing Got Inside The Head Without Becoming Pictures.