DeLillo never seems committed to me to what he is writing. Very nice surfaces, but he's got nothing underneath.
It is inevitable that those to whom is vouchsafed a long life of usefulness should outlive the friends of their youth.
I have a very beautiful room that in my house that we bought in Princeton. It's glass on three sides, and you'd think that's the perfect place to write. Somehow in that nice room I feel too exposed, and I can notice I'm too distracted by things going on, so I end up writing in a not-very-nice office

