Then she smiled, and in that instant, if such a thing were possible, Pasquale fell in love, and he would remain in love for the rest of his life--not so much with the woman, whom he didn't even know, but with the moment.

Life, he thought, is a blatant act of imagination.

I think suspense should be like any other color on a writers palette. I suppose Im in the minority but I think its crazy for literary fiction to divorce itself from stories that are suspenseful, and assign anything with cops or spies or criminals to some genre ghetto.

He wished he could reassure his mother: a man wants many things in life, but when one of them is also the right thing, he would be a fool not to choose it.

He considered it a shame when people couldn't grasp the infinite-a failure not just of imagination but of simple vision.

If a police officer arrests a mime, does he need to tell him he has the right to remain silent.

I've been a dad since I was nineteen, so I think a lot about fatherhood and the power of that sacrifice in your life.