You learn to move on without the people you love.

There’s no grand plan. All I know is that I write the books I want to write. All that other stuff is meaningless to me.

I like the idea of a writer being haunted by his own creation, especially if the writer resents the way the character defines him.

I had dreamed of something so different from what reality was now offering up, but that dream had been a blind man's vision. That dream was a miracle. The morning was fading. And I remembered yet again that I was a tourist here.

I keep feeling that people are becoming less human and more animalistic. They seem to think less and feel less so that everyone is operating on a very primitive level. I wonder what you and I will see in our lifetimes. It seems so hopeless yet we must keep on trying ... I guess we can't escape being a product of the times, can we?

When the going gets tough, the tough go drinking.

I wasn't acting on passion. I was simply acting.