Usually, you don't know where a book comes from ... it's just there, some kind of an itch that you can't quite scratch.

You are either born a writer or you are not.

Words pale and lose their savor while pain is always new.

Do you think that your fathers are watching? That they weigh you in their ledgerbook? Against what? There is no book and your fathers are dead in the ground.

They came upon themselves in a mirror and he almost raised the pistol. It's us, Papa, the boy whispered. It's us.

Ever dumb thing I ever done in my life there was a decision I made before that got me into it. It was never the dumb thing. It was always some choice I'd made before it.

Goodness will find the little boy. It always has. It will again.