He had no money and no home; he lived entirely on the road of the racing circuit, sleeping in empty stalls, carrying with him only a saddle, his rosary, and his books...The books were the closest thing he had to furniture, and he lived in them the way other men live in easy chairs.

My work was entirely nonfiction.

Books on horse racing subjects have never done well, and I am told that publishers had come to think of them as the literary version of box office poison

I think authors can get into trouble viewing the subject matter as their turf

I am actually in poor health due to chronic fatigue and immune dysfunction syndrome, and my ability to work is greatly diminished right now, so I have to get better before I can start another big project

I am in an altogether new world now. I can think of nothing more wonderful. It is a real touch of all that heaven means.

I identified in a very deep way with the individuals I was writing about because the theme that runs through this story is of extraordinary hardship and the will to overcome it.