For a time after my divorce everything began to seem profoundly ironic to me. I found myself thinking of other peoples' worries as sources of amusement and private derision which I thought about at night to make myself feel better.

Some idiotic things are well worth doing.

Writing never came naturally and I still have to force my hand to do it.

Happiness for me is getting to write about the most important things I know.

Your life doesn't mean what you have or what you get. Its what your'e willing to give up.

I'm intrigued by how ordinary behavior exists so close beside its opposite.

If sportswriting teaches you anything, and there is much truth to it as well as plenty of lies, it is that for your life to be worth anything you must sooner or later face the possibility of terrible, searing regret. Though you must also manage to avoid it or your life will be ruined.