This is, I believe, what happens when people take their own lives. They're not killing themselves, they're killing the world. Either to spare it pain or to cause it some, depending.

I think it's just too kinda juicy and compelling to imagine people in their private lives, but then half the time people's private lives are just so much more bizarre and Ted Haggard-like than you could ever imagine. It's almost hard to write fiction anymore.

I didn't really start publishing books until I was 40 because I was busy being a McDonald's employee. So there's always a sense of trying to make up for lost time.

I kept getting high to kill my shame at the fact that I kept getting high.

To me, God is like this happy bus driver.

I've always wanted to be a guy with a rec room.

You can't really compare hells. But I suppose the hell of being strung out on another person's addictive behavior is its own special thing.