I suppose all writers worry about the well running dry.

To weigh and evaluate a vast grid of information, much of it meaningless, and to arrive at sensible, if erroneous, conclusions, is a skill not to be sneezed at.

My God, he couldn't help thinking, how terrible it is to be that age, to have emotions so near the surface that the slightest turbulence causes them to boil over. That, very simply, was what adulthood must be all about -- acquiring the skill to bury things more deeply. Out of sight and, whenever possible, out of mind.

Ultimately, your theme will find you. You don't have to go looking for it.

If there's an enduring theme in my work, it's probably the effects of class on American life.

Worse, I have to admit to feeling the jealousy of one crab for another that has managed to climb out of the barrel.

That afternoon I came to understand that one of the deepest purposes of intellectual sophistication is to provide distance between us and our most disturbing personal truths and gnawing fears.