I've had that situation where I start writing somebody really miserable, and in order to make the story come alive, I have to give them a vote of confidence, make him vulnerable or wounded. But in real life, you often meet people who, in that particular moment, actually shouldn't get a vote of confidence.

Our first responsibility in all things is to preserve our goodness of heart - then and only then act.

The generalizing writer is like the passionate drunk, stumbling into your house mumbling: I know I'm not being clear, exactly, but don't you kind of feel what I'm feeling?

Do those things that incline you toward the big questions, and avoid the things that would reduce you and make you trivial.

Compassion doesn't have to be weak or enabling; it can also be quite bold.

I'm a control freak. I'm defensive. And I'm an egomaniac. That's true about me.

The way I understood purgatory - and maybe you've got a different version - but in Chicago in the '70s, the idea was it was like detention. You had screwed up and you go over there in purgatory and you sit there until the end of days and then we'll decide. You'd made your mistake, and you were in prison, and it's not terrible and it's not great, and you feel a little crappy because you were not in the presence of God.