Every writer has his favorite coterie of enemies: Mine is the East Coast literati -- those prep school playmates and their Ivy League colleagues.

Writers should avoid the academy. When a writer begins to accept pay for talking about words, we know what he will produce soon: nothing but words.

The artist's job? To be a miracle worker: make the blind see, the dull feel, the dead to live.

Our modern industrial economy takes a mountain covered with trees, lakes, running streams and transforms it into a mountain of junk, garbage, slime pits, and debris.

Writing on the wall: Will trade three blind crabs for two with no teeth.

I would like to evoke the sense of wonder and magic in the reader but without invoking the mystical, the supernatural or the transcendent.

The best thing about graduating from the university was that I finally had time to sit on a log and read a good book.