I stared at her black hair. It was shiny like the promises in magazines.

You're not supposed to look back, you're supposed to keep going.

I watched my brother and my father. The truth was very different from what we learned in school. The truth was the line between the living and the dead could be, it seemed, murky and blurred.

It's something that I know how to do because I taught for a very long time, so I can do it, and I feel a responsibility to do it - for instance, in this situation, where I'm touring specifically for this period of time. But most writers are not public people. There are a few writers out there who really enjoy it and are good at it, and can both work and do that at the same time, but I'm not one of those people.

As she brought prospective buyers through, the realtor said it was an oil stain, but it was me, seeping out of the bag.

Please don't let Daddy die Susie," he whispered. "I need him.

The relationship with the words someone uses is more intimate and integrated than just a quick read and a blurb can ever be. This intimacy - the words on the page being sent back and forth from engaged editor to open author - is unique in my experience.