When a man has died, he wants you to know about it.

Jesus watches from the wall, But his face is cold as stone, And if he loves me As she tells me Why do I feel so all alone?

In the years since, I've discovered there's a lot to be said for boredom.

I'm seen as somebody who writes for adults because I'm an older man myself. Some of them find me, and a lot of them don't.

Somebody asked Somerset Maugham about his place in the pantheon of writers, and he said, "I'm in the very front row of the second rate." I'm sort of haunted by that.

Life is like a wheel. Sooner or later, it always come around to where you started again.

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