Happiness doesn't lie in conspicuous consumption and the relentless amassing of useless crap. Happiness lies in the person sitting beside you and your ability to talk to them. Happiness is clear-headed human interaction and empathy. Happiness is home. And home is not a house-home is a mythological conceit. It is a state of mind. A place of communion and unconditional love. It is where, when you cross its threshold, you finally feel at peace.

It's very simple. If you learn how to write well, to write with depth, cream will rise to the top. You'll get published. But, there is no secret.

I was blessed to grow up in really interesting times and to go back to a home where I was very safe.

Don't get me wrong, I love literary fiction. It's faux literary fiction I can't stand.

And he hated himself and hated her,too, for the ruin they'd made of each other.

Choice, I've always believed, is all that separates us from animals.

There are so many more important things to worry about than how you're perceived by strangers.