We all end up in the same place. Some sonner than others.

When people make a contract with the devil and give him an air-conditioned office to work in, he doesn't go back home easily.

You do it a day at a time. You write as well as you can, you put it in the mail, you leave it under submission, you never leave it at home.

The story of Ulysses and Agamemnon and Menelaus, of Jesus, of the Good Knight of Chaucer, lives in every one of us.

How do you explain to yourself the casual manner in which you threw your life away?

I believe the causes that create them [serial killers] are theological in nature, rather than societal. I believe they make a conscious choice to erase God's thumbprint from their souls.

You have two choices in life. You either die or do something with your time. You're going to be doing something - why not write?