My parents, and librarians along the way, taught me about the space between words; about the margins, where so many juicy moments of life and spirit and friendship could be found. In a library, you could find miracles and truth and you might find something that would make you laugh so hard that you get shushed, in the friendliest way.

I accidentally forgot to graduate from college.

Writing takes a combination of sophistication and innocence; it takes conscience, our belief that something is beautiful because it is right.

My friend Terry says that when you need to make a decision, in your work or otherwise, and you don’t know what to do, just do one thing or the other, because the worst that can happen is that you will have made a terrible mistake.

Novels ought to have hope; at least, American novels ought to have hope. French novels don't need to. We mostly win wars, they lose them. Of course, they did hide more Jews than many other countries, and this is a form of winning.

Sometimes it takes failure to figure out who you aren't.

Because this business of becoming conscious, of being a writer, is ultimately about asking yourself, How alive am I willing to be?