The great thing about irony is that it splits things apart, gets up above them so we can see the flaws and hypocrisies and duplicates.

The interesting thing is why we're so desperate for this anesthetic against loneliness.

What TV is extremely good at - and realize that this is 'all it does' - is discerning what large numbers of people think they want, and supplying it.

For these cultures, getting rid of the pain without addressing the deeper cause would be like shutting off a fire alarm while the fire's still going.

The problem is that once the rules of art are debunked, and once the unpleasant realities the irony diagnoses are revealed and diagnosed, 'then' what do we do?

This might be one way to start talking about differences between the early postmodern writers of the fifties and sixties and their contemporary descendants.

One of the things that makes Wittgenstein a real artist to me is that he realized that no conclusion could be more horrible than solipsism.

Fiction's about what it is to be a human being.

I often think I can see it in myself and in other young writers, this desperate desire to please coupled with a kind of hostility to the reader.

It seems important to find ways of reminding ourselves that most 'familiarity' is meditated and delusive.