I write in the mornings, in the bright daylight. But I get most of my good ideas after the sun has gone down and the dark is on the land.

I had a period where I thought I might not be good enough to publish.

An idea is like a cold germ: sooner or later someone always catches it.

There are a great many ways to commit suicide you know.

Stories are relics, part of an undiscovered pre-existing world.

I spend a lot of time parenting because I'm home. A friend of mine told me that the average father sees each kid an average of twenty-two minutes a week, which I found almost unbelievable. Mine are in my hip pocket all the time. And I like it that way.

Death, but not for you, gunslinger. Never for you. You darkle. You tinct. May I be brutally frank? You go on.