We don't like admitting this, but it is a key component of human existence: the fact that life has the potential for things both wondrous and horrific.

All our stories are simultaneously unique and desperately similar, aren't they?

The only time you truly become an adult is when you finally forgive your parents for being just as flawed as everyone else.

I want to be a popular novelist who's also serious, or a serious novelist who's also very accessible.

With a novel, no matter where I am in it, I'm fretting about it. Every time I write a book, it starts with great forward momentum. Then there seems to be a period where it slows down a bit, and other things intervene. Then I gain momentum.

We can rarely tell others what we really think about them--not just because it would so wound them, but also because it would so wound ourselves.

We all want to fix things. Just as we all believe that so much in life can be rectified. Mend fences, build bridges, reach out, engage in mutual healing.