The pity of living only once is that there is no way, ever, to be sure which sorrows are inevitable.

When it comes time to do your own life, you either perpetuate your childhood or you stand on it and finally kick it out from under.

It’s a job. It’s not a hobby. You don’t write the way you build a model airplane. You have to sit down and work, to schedule your time and stick to it. Even if it’s just for an hour or so each day, you have to get a babysitter and make the time. If you’re going to make writing succeed you have to approach it as a job.

One of the marvels of personality is its resistance to prediction. One man's paralyzing trauma is another man's invitation to take control of his life; one woman's grounds for insanity is another woman's ground to a dramatic shaping of self.

The pity of living only once is that there is no way, ever, to be sure which sorrows are inevitable.

They are the kind of people who are embarrassed by money, a dead middle-class giveaway. Poor people are not embarrassed by money and are contemptuous of those who are.

[On book promotion:] The reward for writing well appears to be not to be able to do it for a long time.