The excitement of anticipation was *almost* equal to the thrill of lovemaking.

Just because you're sober, don't think you're a good driver, Cookie.

I think that was when the headmaster realized he had lost; he realized then that he was finished. Because, what could he do? Was he going to tell us to stop praying? We kept our heads bowed; and we kept praying. Even as awkward as he was, the Rev. Mr. Merrill had made it clear to us that there was no end to praying for Owen Meany.

Keep passing the open windows.

For most of my life, when I've finished the book I'm writing, there've always been as many as two or three other novels waiting to be written next. And the decision driving which one of them it should be was never based on how long it had waited or how many accumulated pages of notes I had.

When writing a novel, I'm not smart enough to know how to foreshadow something if I don't know what it is.

If we live long enough, we become caricatures of ourselves.