My most pronounced writing habit is trying not to write.

I'm very optimistic. I think if you would describe me, my pretty consistent affect is that I'm a pretty happy person.

There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother... Oh, how I hated that little boy. And how I love him too.

What had I expected of the first child? Everything. Rocket scientist. Neurosurgeon. Designated hitter. We talked wisely at cocktail parties about the sad mistake our mothers had made in pinning all their hopes and dreams on us. We were full of it.

I think the gift of my mother's death, if anything so terrible can be said to have an upside to it, is that I was always keenly aware that life was fleeting, and that you'd better live while you have the chance. As I say in the book, since I was 19 years old I felt like I was living for two, and when I out-lived my mother, when I got into my forties, it felt like a miracle to me.

Stereotypes fall in the face of humanity. We human beings are best understood one at a time.

There's no greater happiness than doing something every day that you love, that you feel you do in a satisfactory fashion, and which both supports and gives you time to support your family. I felt so lucky to have all that.