I thought you hung the moon.

But my miracle was different. My miracle was this: out of all the houses in all the subdivisions in all of Florida, I ended up living next door to Margo Roth Spiegelman.

I wrote my first novel and my second novel in Chicago. It was the place where I became a writer. It's my favorite city.

I was born into Bolívar's labyrinth, and so I must believe in the hope of Rabelais' Great Perhaps.

"And how are you feeling?" asked Patrick."Oh, I'm grand." Augustus Waters smiled with a corner of his mouth. "I'm on a roller coaster that only goes up, my friend."

At least for tonight. In sickness and in health. In good times and in bad. For richer, for poorer. 'Till dawn do us part.

That's how writing works, at least for me: even the stuff that doesn't work out gets funneled into the stuff that does work out.