I'm going to quit writing.

I was born two months early, and everyone had given up on me. But my mother insisted on my life.

So I'm OK with myself, with history, my work, who I am and who I was.

The older we get the less afraid we are.

If you apply reason and logic to this career of mine, you're not going to get very far. You simply won't.

Far as I can tell, I still have most of my hair, my gut is not hanging over my belt, and I still have all of my teeth.

I set my star so high that I would constantly be in motion toward it.