I speak my own sins; I cannot judge another. I have no tongue for it.

Oh,Elizabeth, your justice would freeze beer.

A character is defined by the kinds of challenges he cannot walk away from. And by those he has walked away from that cause him remorse.

There is a misconception of tragedy with which I have been struck in review after review, and in many conversations with writers and readers alike. It is the idea that tragedy is of necessity allied to pessimism.

I’m a writer, and everything I write is both a confession and a struggle to understand things about myself and this world in which I live. This is what everyone’s work should be-whether you dance or paint or sing. It is a confession, a baring of your soul, your faults, those things you simply cannot or will not understand or accept. You stumble forward, confused, and you share. If you’re lucky, you learn something.

Why am I trying to become what I don’t want to be … when all I want is out there, waiting for me the minute I say I know who I am.

A man is not a bird, to come and go with the springtime.