One place comprehended can make us understand other places better.

Laurel could not see her face but only the back of her neck, the most vulnerable part of anybody, and she thought: Is there any sleeping person you can be entirely sure you have not misjudged?

Gardening is akin to writing stories. No experience could have taught me more about grief or flowers, about achieving survival by going, your fingers in the ground, the limit of physical exhaustion.

Once you're into a story everything seems to apply-what you overhear on a city bus is exactly what your character would say on the page you're writing. Wherever you go, you meet part of your story.

A good snapshot stops a moment from running away.

Indeed, learning to write may be part of learning to read. For all I know, writing comes out of a superior devotion to reading.

Writers and travelers are mesmerized alike by knowing of their destinations.