My ideas are not meant to suggest dreams or reality, but a surreal quality.

Your house is all about routine, not the unexpected events of your life.

There must be something to think about at the end.

I write for what's left of the eight-year-old still rattling around inside my head

The Dick, Jane, and Spot primers have gone to that bookshelf in the sky. I have, in some ways, a tender feeling toward them, so I think it's for the best.

As much as I'd like to meet the tooth fairy on an evening walk, I don't really believe it can happen.

Though I’ve grown old, the bell still rings for me as it does for all who truly believe.