It would be nice to avoid the world, to leave it and all its threats and unhappiness. Not to die or anything like that, but to find a place of solitude and solace.

I'm weary of the battle. But a tired fighter can still be a fighter.

I can't remember a time when I wasn't trying to get something down on paper.

There are moments that stop the heart, that catch the breath, that halt the beat of blood in your veins, and you are suspended in time, held between life and death, and you wait for something to bring you back again.

I don't think I began to be a professional writer until I learned my weaknesses and what I couldn't do. This forced me to compensate.

He hated to think of his own life stretching ahead of him that way, a long succession of days and nights that were fine - not good, not bad, not great, not lousy, not exciting, not anything.

They don't actually want you to do your own thing, not unless it's their thing too.