With the exception of certain rodents, no other vertebrate except Homo sapiens habitually destroys members of his own species.

I get intrigued by a puzzle, and writing a book is the best way to solve it.

The human spirit is not indestructible; but a courageous few discover that, when in hell, they are granted a glimpse of heaven.

So-called "inspiration" is no more than an extreme example of a process which constantly goes on in the minds of all of us.

It is widely believed that interpersonal relationships of an intimate kind are the chief, if not the only, source of human happiness, yet the lives of creative individuals often seem to run counter to this assumption.

It is only when we no longer compulsively need someone that we can have a real relationship with them.

I want to show that the dividing lines between sanity and mental illness have been drawn in the wrong place.