The places where water comes together with other water. Those places stand out in my mind like holy places.

But he stays by the window, remembering that life. They had laughed. They had leaned on each other and laughed until the tears had come, while everything else—the cold and where he'd go in it—was outside, for a while anyway.

You're...writing for other writers to an extent-the dead writers whose work you admire, as well as the living writers you like to read.

I guess my writing has changed as my life has.

He wondered if she wondered if he were watching her.

A great danger, or at least a great temptation, for many writers is to become too autobiographical in their approach to their fiction. A little autobiography and a lot of imagination are best.

The places where water comes together with other water. Those places stand out in my mind like holy places.