No reporter worth his buttons will let the facts intrude on a good story.

We came from Bethlehem, Georgia bearing Betty Crocker cake mixes into the jungle.

My worst nightmare is being stuck somewhere with nothing to read.

Don't try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say.

Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin.

There's a graveyard in northern France where all the dead boys from D-Day are buried. The white crosses reach from one horizon to the other. I remember looking it over and thinking it was a forest of graves. But the rows were like this, dizzying, diagonal, perfectly straight, so after all it wasn't a forest but an orchard of graves. Nothing to do with nature, unless you count human nature.

The things I carry closest to my heart are things I can't own.