Please give me fifty more years of work and fun, then an instant death when I'm sleeping.

Privileged people don't march and protest; their world is safe and clean and governed by laws designed to keep them happy.

It's amazing how lies grow. You start with a small one that seems easy to cover, then you get boxed in and tell another one. Then another. People believe you at first, then they act upon your lies, and you catch yourself wishing you'd simply told the truth.

I learned that lesson a long time ago. When you write popular fiction, you're going to get bashed by critics.

My decision to become a lawyer was irrevocably sealed when I realized my father hated the legal profession.

So many book sections in newspapers and magazines used to be lively and vibrant places. Now they are gone. You just don't see many reviews anymore. I can't control that, so I don't worry about it. I just try to do what I do and write books that people find every entertaining. I don't worry about the critics.

It's as if we spend our entire lives avoiding Jell-O but it is always there at the end, waiting.