I'll tell you one thing, though. It's a terrible thing to be a disappointment to a good woman.

America has always been a nation of small places, and as we lose them, we're losing part of ourselves.

To his surprise, she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, a kiss so full of affection that it dispelled the awkwardness, even as it caused Miles' heart to plummet, because all kisses are calibrated, and this one revealed the great chasm between affection and love.

I suppose all writers worry about the well running dry.

I can be glib and truthful all at once.

I looked back at some of my earlier published stories with genuine horror and remorse. I got thinking, How many extant copies might there be, who owns them, and do they keep their doors locked?

Some authors have a very hard time understanding that in order to be faithful to the spirit of the book, it's almost always impossible to remain faithful to the text. You have to make changes.