Humility is not a virtue in a writer, it is an absolute necessity.

Then the sun broke above the crest of the hills and the entire countryside looked soaked in blood, the arroyos deep in shadow, the cones of dead volcanoes stark and biscuit-colored against the sky. I could smell pinion trees, wet sage, woodsmoke, cattle in the pastures, and creek water that had melted from snow. I could smell the way the country probably was when it was only a dream in the mind of God.

Money can't buy happiness but it'll sure keep a mess of grief off your front porch.

Louisiana is a fresh-air mental asylum.

What's the worst thing about getting old? Getting old.

My experience has been that people who die for causes have few friends in death.

If there is any human tragedy, there is only one, and it occurs when we forget who we are and remain silent while a stranger takes up residence inside our skin.