The keys that unlock the heart are made of funny materials: a disarming phrase that comes out of the blue, nowhere, a certain sexy walk that sends you reeling, the way someone hums when she is alone. My father said it was the way my mother danced with him.

It's always fun to walk down the street with or behind a really beautiful woman, for no reason other than to see how the world reacts to them.

Far more disturbing than any spook house at an amusement park is a ride through the old hometown if you've been away for years.

Sometimes it is the smallest thing that saves us: the weather growing cold, a child's smile, and a cup of excellent coffee.

I find you write with one person in mind. Usually for me that one person is my wife, because she's my most severe critic and understands best what I'm trying to do.

Very often I'll find out at the end of a book what I put in at the beginning. A sort of process of elimination and discovery in one.

Time talks behind our back. To our face it's friendly and logical, never hesitating to give more of itself. But when we're not looking, it steals our lives and says bad things about us to the parts of us it's stolen