Basketball allowed me to revere my father without him knowing what I was up to. I took up basketball as a form of homage and mimicry.

I've never cackled with laughter at a single line I've ever written. None of it has given me pleasure.

I was born and raised on a Carolina sea island and I carried the sunshine of the low-country, inked in dark gold, on my back and shoulders.

I only hope to do well enough before I die to have a house as big as my rich Uncle Ed and Aunt Carole.

I do not have any other way of saying it. I think it happens but once and only to the very young when it feels like your skin could ignite at the mere touch of another person. You get to love like that but once.

Good coaching is good teaching and nothing else.

To describe our growing up in the lowcountry of South Carolina, I would have to take you to the marsh on a spring day, flush the great blue heron from its silent occupation, scatter marsh hens as we sink to our knees in mud, open an oyster with a pocketknife and feed it to you from the shell and say, 'There. That taste. That's the taste of my childhood.'