I think it's the people who have no doubt that every word they put down is gold that probably don't write very well.

Thanks to the circus between my ears, I can seize upon the smallest disquieting observation and from it extrapolate a terror of cataclysmic proportions.

What doesn't quicken dies. That's an indisputable truth of life.

He once told me that an August evening was "as hot as three toads in a Cuisinart," a comparison that left me blinking two days later.

I never discuss a novel while I'm writing it, for fear that talking about it will diminish my desire to write it.

We need to laugh at the irrationality of evil, for in doing so we deny evil's power over us, diminish its influence in the world, and tarnish the allure it has for some people.

In this world only the paranoid survive.