Honey, I plan to marry you the moment the ink is dry on that death certificate.

My platitudes don't hold their interest and I can hardly blame them for that. My real stories are all out of date. So what if I can speak firsthand about the Spanish flu, the advent of the automobile, world wars, cold wars, guerrilla wars, and Sputnik — that's all ancient history now. But what else do I have to offer? Nothing happens to me anymore. That's the reality of getting old, and I guess that's really the crux of the matter. I'm not ready to be old yet.

Even when I look straight into the milky blue eyes I can't find myself any more. When did I stop being me?

I tend not to think about the reading public at all, or the business, when I'm writing.

I had my whole life planned.. I knew exactly where it was taking me.

You work hard on a book and throw it out there and then it's beyond your control.

I think there is just a vein of humanity that really loves animals and really loves to read about them.