People seem to think there's a magic formula to writing, i just write 1 word at a time.

Do they see the lethal insanity of a race to the brink of oblivion, and then over the edge? Apparently not. If they did, surely they wouldn't be racing to begin with. Or is it a simple failure of imagination? One doesn't like to think such a rudimentary failing could bring about the end, yet...

Don't let the sun go down without saying thank you to someone, and without admitting to yourself that absolutely no one gets this far alone.

There were people who lied for gain, people who lied from pain, people who lied simply because the concept of telling the truth was utterly alien to them . . . and then there were people who lied because they were waiting for it to be time to tell the truth.

He would write it for the reason he felt that all great literature, fiction and nonfiction, was written: truth comes out, in the end it always comes out. He would write it because he felt he had to.

the look of the sky as the day's blue blood runs out of its cheek.

Battles that last five minutes spawn legends that live a thousand years.