If I had to be anything," he told her, "I'd probably be a socialist, but I don't want to be anything.

To each other, we were as normal and nice as the smell of bread. We were just a family. In a family even exaggerations make perfect sense.

Writing a novel is actually searching for victims. As I write I keep looking for casualties. The stories uncover the casualties.

The first of my father's illusions was that bears could survive the life led by human beings; the second was that human beings could survive a life in hotels.

My brain is sending poison to my heart.

No touching Baby Jesus.” “But we’re his parents!” proclaimed Mary Beth, who was being generous to include poor Joseph under this appellation. “Mary Beth,” Barb Wiggin said, “if you touch the Baby Jesus, I’m putting you in a cow costume.

wherever the TV glows, there sits someone who isn't reading.