What it boils down to is that parenting a child with autism is a difficult job; writing about it is far easier.

Hard to be a physics major at Rice University if you have flunked calculus.

I've taught Sunday school, I've sung in the choir, I directed a choir.

When a person responds emotionally to intellectual things, or emotionally only to traditional emotional things - I find that an interesting break between myself and some other writers and fans.

Sometimes I wonder how normal normal people are, and I wonder that most in the grocery store.

People are people, messy and mutable, combining differently with one another from day to day - even hour to hour.

I regarded drugs as somewhat like rattlesnakes - it's possible to pick one up without getting bit, but why bother?