Every life is narrow. Our only escape is not to run away, but to learn to love the people we are and the world in which we find ourselves.

With English literature, if you do a bit of shonky spelling, no one dies, but if you're half-way through a maths calculation and you stick in an extra zero, everything just crashes into the ravine.

I started writing books for children because I could illustrate them myself and because, in my innocence, I thought they'd be easier.

I think good books have to make a few people angry.

On the fifth day, which was a Sunday, it rained very hard. I like it when it rains hard. It sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence but not empty.

And I go out of Father's house and I walk down the street, and it is very quiet even thought it is the middle of the day and I can't hear any noise except birds singing and wind and sometimes buildings falling down in the distance, and if I stand very close to traffic lights I can hear a little click as the colors change.

I knew there was a story; once you find a dog with a fork through it, you know there's a story there.