I believe that the combination of pencil and memory creates a kind of practical magic, and magic is dangerous.

Talent is a wonderful thing, but it won't carry a quitter.

My father had taught me - mostly by example - that if a man wanted to be in charge of his life, he had to be in charge of his problems.

Remember that 'plumber in space' is not such a bad setup for a story.

It would perhaps not be amiss to point out that he had always tried to be a good dog. He had tried to do all the things his MAN and his WOMAN, and most of all his BOY, had asked or expected of him. He would have died for them, if that had been required. He had never wanted to kill anybody. He had been struck by something, possibly destiny, or fate, or only a degenerative nerve disease called rabies. Free will was not a factor.

Life was such a wheel that no man could stand upon it for long. And it always, at the end, came round to the same place again.

I'm rightly tired of the pain I hear and feel, boss. I'm tired of bein on the road, lonely as a robin in the rain. Not never havin no buddy to go on with or tell me where we's comin from or goin to or why. I'm tired of people bein ugly to each other. It feels like pieces of glass in my head. I'm tired of all the times I've wanted to help and couldn't. I'm tired of bein in the dark. Mostly it's the pain. There's too much. If I could end it, I would. But I can't.