Between the lines of every book the writer reveals their own secrets.
Characters begin as your children and become your teachers.
When one sense is diminished, the others burn more brightly. In a blindfold, you feel every minute motion of his hand as it crosses your body, his fingertips finding secret places, his palm on bare buttocks, his cock nudging at your clitoris.
Books have a life. They breathe. When you write a book, it grows and changes. You learn from your characters after you create them. They come from you and you become them.
Reading releases you from the limits of yourself.
When you lose yourself in a book the hours grow wings and fly.
Writers strive for the impossible: perfection. Even the universe is flawed.
The only prophecy the artist can make with confidence is that he and his message will be misunderstood by a world that values all the wrong things.
I'm my characters' galley slave.
One of the key secrets of great writing is knowing where to start and when to stop.
Who knows why we do it? And when we've done it, nobody wants it. Still we keep doing it. That's what makes a writer a writer.
Writing is like a religion to those who don't practise, an act of faith for those who do.
There is a word I have always avoided in my writing, my life, my thoughts. That word is love. What does it mean? How do you deal with it? If you find it and lose it, how do you get over it? Love is something you feel and when you feel it you can’t ...
When you can cross the highwire without falling off, you are in a state of perfect balance, perfect grace. It is the same with obedience. When you submit, submit totally, you enter that same equilibrium, surrender and grace. This is the meaning of er...
If the existentialists are right, that life is meaningless, and if we acknowledge that, we are better equipped to find pleasure in small things.
The future is trapped in a cage opened only by the key of genius.
There is a sense that we are waiting for something, that however wonderful something is, there is something else waiting to tempt us; however perfect someone is, someone else might be better, more suitable, more fun, better in bed. Whatever road you ...
After making love there is nothing like making love, slowly, idly, like walking without a destination, or swimming in a warm sea.
Our brain is a circuit board with neurons and terminals ready to be wired. We are born free, then programmed to obey our parents, to tell the truth, pass exams, pursue and achieve, love and propagate, age and fade unfulfilled and uncertain what it ha...
If character is destiny, I was fated to be carried off into the desert. From the deck of the ship I had imagined my own ghost and seen my unvanishing footsteps. When you don't belong anywhere it doesn't matter where you are or where you go, if you st...
Mummy became a shadow, a woman who had lost herself because she had never found herself. She had always done the right thing, and I had a feeling that the right thing is always going to be the wrong thing, that you find yourself by stepping out of yo...
