Try Jesus, you won't regret it, a billboard read.

Now peculiar scraps of knowledge were stuck to him like lint from all his jobs.

I save the best of myself for novels, and I believe it shows

Not until the final draft do I force myself to remember that I'm going to have to think about how it will affect other people.

Isn't a memorial service meant to comfort the living?

I think I was born with the impression that what happened in books was much more reasonable, and interesting, and real, in some ways, than what happened in life.

I write because I want more than one life; I insist on a wider selection. It's greed, plain and simple.