The characters in my novels, from the very first one, are always on some quixotic effort of attempting to control something that is uncontrollable - some element of the world that is essentially random and out of control.

It is amazing to me, now, how such wild imaginings and philosophies - inspired by a night charged with frights and calamities - made such perfectly good sense to Owen Meany and me, but good friends are nothing to each other if they are not supportive.

Life forces enough final decisions on us. We should have the sense to avoid as many of the unnecessary ones as we can.

I believe in rules of behavior, and I'm quite interested in stories about the consequences of breaking those rules.

He had in abundance youth’s most dangerous qualities: optimism and relentlessness. He would risk everything he had to fly the plane that could carry the bomb within him.

Nothing moves at the Hotel New Hampshire! We're screwed down here-for life!

I'm not proselytizing my method. I don't believe that one writer should tell other writers how to write.