We are all shaped by where we grow up, though that shaping takes different forms. I dont think theres any doubt that coming of age in Winnipeg both opened my eyes and made me hungry - if I can subvert all claims to be a real writer by mixing metaphors like that.

There are no wrong turnings. Only paths we had not known we were meant to walk.

In this world, where we find ourselves, we need compassion more than anything, I think, or we are all alone.

As many have noted, the peril for authors is that our work space is too easily our play space.

The deeds of men, as footprints in the desert. Nothing under the circling moons is fated to last. Even the sun goes down.

You have to be afraid for it to count as bravery.

She had been a solitary child, and then solitary as a woman, drawn into an orbit of her own that took her away from others, even those who would be her friends.