Pride was my wilderness, and the demon that led me there was fear.

In some families, please is described as the magic word. In our house, however, it was sorry.

Privacy is a privilege not granted to the aged or the young.

Animals are less alone with roaring than we are with all these words.

Why doesn't Prin go and get her own goddamn blistering bloody shitty jelly doughnuts?

I've never been able to force a novel. I always had the sense something being given to me. You can't sit around and wait until inspiration strikes, but neither can you force into being something that isn't there.

Holidays are enticing only for the first week or so. After that, it is no longer such a novelty to rise late and have little to do.