I've always thought a hotel ought to offer optional small animals. I mean a cat to sleep on your bed at night, or a dog of some kind to act pleased when you come in. You ever notice how a hotel room feels so lifeless?

Odd how clear it suddenly became, once a person had died, that the body was the very least of him.

Bravest thing about people is how they go on loving mortal beings after finding out there's such a thing as dying.

Time, in general, has always been a central obsession of mine - what it does to people, how it can constitute a plot all on its own. So naturally, I am interested in old age.

There is no sound more peaceful than rain on the roof, if you're safe asleep in someone else's house.

When I'm working on something, I proceed as if no one else will ever read it.

My family can always tell when I'm well into a novel because the meals get very crummy.