What a midwesterner he was, a thoroughly unhip guy with his heart in the usual place, on the sleeve, in plain sight.

Because it is the Midwest, no one really glitters because no one has to, it's more of a dull shine, like frequently used silverware.

At least with pets, and for all I know, people too, intelligence and quick-wittedness have nothing to do with a talent for being loved, or being kind, nothing at all, less than nothing.

When I'm writing, I'm waiting to see somebody, and I'm waiting to hear them. It's almost like conjuring spirits out of the air, using your own imaginative instability.

When blame has been assigned, the story is over.

When readers don't like the book, it's usually because they feel that romantic love is pass or somehow needs more irony.

Try to get your characters into interesting trouble. Allow your characters to misbehave. Let them stay out after 11.