For every reader who dies today, a viewer is born, and we seem to be witnessing . . . the final tipping balance.

Interesting verbs are seldom very interesting.

If you want to have friends, you have to remember that nobody's perfect.

I used to think it was hard to write, and I still find the process more or less unpleasant, but if I know what I'm doing it rattles along, then the rewrite whips it into shape rather quickly.

And Silence of the Lambs is a really smart book.

The problem was money and the indignities of life without it. Every stroller, cell phone, Yankees cap, and SUV he saw was a torment. He wasn't covetous, he wasn't envious. But without money he was hardly a man.

But she was seventeen now and not actually dumb. She knew that you could love somebody more than anything and still not love the person all that much, if you were busy with other things.