I have lived in the East for nearly thirty years now, but many of my books prove that I am never very far away from Ohio in my thoughts, and that the clocks that strike in my dreams are often the clocks of Columbus.

We all have faults, and mine is being wicked.

Sixty minutes of thinking of any kind is bound to lead to confusion and unhappiness.

I don't believe the writer should know too much where he's going. If he does, he runs into old man blueprint—old man propaganda.

It had only one fault. It was kind of lousy.

Love is what you've been through with somebody.

The past is an old armchair in the attic, the present an ominous ticking sound, and the future is anybody's guess.