I can never understand why people who have not seen me for a while ask if I am still writing. They might as well ask me if I am still breathing.

Writing, for me, is the best occupation I can think of, and there is nothing in the world I would rather do.

If it doesn't sweat, jiggle, or pant, it's not alive.

We all have our own battles to fight, and sometimes we have to go it alone. I'm stronger than you think, you'd be surprised.

There were so many of these moments that could never be captured accurately, even in the camcorder, only in the heart.

Anyone of any age, any race, any background, any education - if they write an interesting enough book - can become a published author. What it takes is imagination, the ability to put words on a paper in an interesting, perhaps even unique way, the fortitude to rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, and polish, edit, polish, edit until the story sort of sings. I think everyone has a story inside him, but only a few have the persistence and, of course, the interest, to write it down and see it through.

Since no one really knows what or who God is, or whether God is at all, why can't God be hope?