Age is a terrible thief. Just when you're getting the hang of life, it knocks your legs out from under you and stoops your back. It makes you ache and muddies your head and silently spreads cancer throughout your spouse.

I used to think I preferred getting old to the alternative, but now I'm not sure. Sometimes the momotony of bingo and sing-alongs and ancient dusty people parked in the hallway in wheelchairs makes me long for death. Particularly when I rememver that I'm one of the ancient dusty people, filed away like some worthless tchotchke.

...if you expect people to try to do things your way, you're going to have to give some hints as to what that way is.

The whole thing's illusion, [Jacob], and there's nothing wrong with that. It's what people want from us. It's what they expect.

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

I hate this bizarre policy of protective exclusion, because it effectively writes me off the page.

Even as your body betrays you, your mind denies it.