It was a great place to write a novel about book burning, in the library basement.

Cram them full of non-combustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information. Then they’ll feel they’re thinking, they’ll get a sense of motion without moving. And they’ll be happy, because facts of that sort don’t change. Don’t give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy.

My job is to help you fall in love.

An athlete may run ten thousand miles in order to prepare for one hundred yards. Quantity gives experience.

The ability to fantasize is the ability to survive, and the ability to fantasize is the ability to grow

And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn't crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again.

Write what you love and love what you write.