I could run nearly naked on a hot, windy beach and plunge without care into a running diamond sea; roll on the sand and fling my arms wide to the sun and still be what I was...young.

I think we all get too caught up in doing instead of just being sometimes.

Anger is its own excuse and its own reward.

It's unimaginable to me that I wouldn't write, but it's very imaginable that I won't write for a little while.

I have a theory that Southern madhouses are full of gifted women who were stifled.

I think every creative impulse that a working writer, or artist of any sort has, comes out of that dark old country where dreams come from.

Perhaps the most important thing we can ever do in our lives is find a way to keep the wild-both the wild inside and the wild outside us-and tap into it.