You can approach the act of writing with nervousness, excitement, hopefulness, or despair ... Come to it any way but lightly.

I never saw any of my dad's stories. My mother said he had piles and piles of manuscripts.

I'm not the first person to have said this - no writer ever feels that the execution of a book lives up to the idea for that book. The execution always falls short.

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.

Belief in the supernatural or belief in wild talents like precognition and telepathy and telekinesis and things like that, it seems to me that belief in those things is just very, very freeing.

Our memories have voices, too. Often sad ones that clamor like raised arms in the dark.

Once again there was the desert, and that only.