My imagination is a kind of animal. So what I do is keep it alive.

No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories.

Such wounds to the heart will probably never heal. But we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever.

I am 55 years old now. It takes three years to write one book. I don't know how many books I will be able to write before I die. It is like a countdown. So with each book I am praying - please let me live until I am finished.

But this thing, whatever it was, this mistlike something, hung there inside my body like a certain kind of potential. I wanted to give it a name, but the word refused to come to mind. I’m terrible at finding the right words for things. I’m sure Tolstoy would have been able to come up with exactly the right word

Reality's just the accumulation of ominous prophecies come to life. All you have to do is open a newspaper on any given day to weigh the good news versus the bad news, and you'll see what I mean.

Kids' hearts are malleable, but once they gel it's hard to get them back the way they were.