Don't confine truth to fact. Imaginative truth is as powerful, and often enough, more so than fact.

What an awful thing then, being there in our house together with our daughter gone, trying to be equal to so many sudden orders of sorrow, any one of which alone would have wrenched us from our fragile orbits around each other.

I breathed the book before I saw it; tasted the book before I read it.

Don't confine truth to fact. Imaginative truth is as powerful, and often enough, more so than fact.

Light changes, our eyes blink and see the world from the slightest difference of perspective and our place in it has changed.

He smelled cold water and cold intrepid green. Those early flowers smelled like cold water. Their fragrance was not the still perfume of high summer; it was the smell of cold, raw green.

Contrary to all those times you've heard a writer confess at a reading that he writes fiction because he is a pathological liar, fiction writing is all about telling the truth.