I think the feature reporter often walks a very thin line between a truly human story and one that slops over into mushiness or sentimentality.

I would love to write something that people would still read 50 or 100 years from now. That comes with growing older, I think.

I started out thinking of America as highways and state lines. As I got to know it better, I began to think of it as rivers.

It was cold out there, bitter, biting, cutting, piercing, hyperborean, marmoreal cold, and there were all these Minnesotans running around outdoors, happy as lambs in the spring.

If there are bleachers in heaven and a warm sun, that's where you'll find Bill Veeck.

I don't think one should ever come to my stage of life and have to look back and say, Gosh. I wish I hadn't spent all those years doing that job I was never really interested in.

What I learned on the road. Above all else - to love my native land.