Life is not a series of pathetic, meaningles actions. Some of them are so far from pathetic, so far from meaningless as to be beyond reason, maybe beyond forgiveness.

I notice when I'm on these trips, I read like mad. It's the only thing that seems to center me, bring me back to remembering who I am. Or forgetting who I am!

I am also working on a couple of short stories for anthologies. This is new to me and Im enjoying it.

Some people with awful cards can be successful because of how they deal with the tragedies they're handed, and that seems courageous to me.

I can write for a long time on one novel and not get tired.

. . . crazy world or maybe it's just the view we have of it, looking through a crack in the door, never being able to see the whole room, the whole picture.

Feeling is not selective, I keep telling you that. You can’t feel pain, you aren’t gonna feel anything else, either.